The Girls of St. Wode's

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE "MERRY ALICE."

  Leslie knew that she must on no account awaken her. Approaching hersoftly, she took her hand. Annie immediately stopped in her wildpacings; she did not withdraw her hand from Leslie's. Leslie led hertoward the bed, taking care not to speak. Using a little force, she gotAnnie to sit down on the edge of the bed; then raising her feet gentlyshe covered her with the bedclothes, and stood by her, still retainingher hand. After a time, Annie seemed to feel the comfort of that warmpressure; she ceased to moan, her eyes closed, the frown vanished fromher brows, and she fell into a heavy sleep.

  Leslie now knelt down and gazed into the face of the sleeper.

  "What can be the matter with her?" she thought. "Can I find out? Isthere any way in which I can comfort her? I wish mother were here. Thereis no doubt she is carrying a terrible heavy burden, and she won't letanyone help her. What did that letter mean?"

  The sleeper moaned heavily.

  "This will kill me," she muttered; "I can't stand it."

  "God will give you strength, dear," said Leslie aloud. She stooped andkissed Annie on her brow, then she went back to her own bed.

  During the rest of the night Leslie hardly slept, but Annie neverstirred. In the morning Annie got up, looking much as usual, but havingnot the slightest remembrance of the little scene through which both sheand her roomfellow had lived during the night.

  The day's work began and continued. Annie was if possible even moreassiduous in her studies. She had only one lecture to attend thatmorning, and, the moment it was over, returned to her desk by the openwindow, and worked away without intermission at her mathematics.

  Leslie had three lectures to go to, and was thankful for this, as shedid not care to be alone in the room with Annie.

  "She won't let me comfort her, and it is dreadful to see that dull lookof agony and suffering in her eyes," thought Leslie.

  Immediately after luncheon that day, just as the girls were preparing toleave the dining-hall, Miss Penrose, the principal of South Hall, whoalways sat at a little table with a few favored pupils, stood up andsounded a silver gong. The girls immediately stopped, turned, and facedher.

  "I wish to mention," she said, "that Miss Lauderdale expects you all tocome to East Hall at half-past eight this evening; the entire college isto meet there on a special and important matter. Miss Lauderdale issorry that the notice is so brief. She begs, however, that the students,without exception, will attend to it. Those, therefore, who contemplatedgoing out must send word to their friends that they will have topostpone their visits."

  Miss Penrose then immediately left the hall, and the girls went into thecentral hall and stood about discussing the sudden summons.

  Leslie was eagerly pounced upon by the Chetwynds, who asked her what shethought Miss Lauderdale could want with them all. Just then AnnieColchester darted past the little group, and ran quickly upstairs.

  "Annie!" called out Leslie to her, "you will be sure to be ready to gowith me to East Hall this evening?"

  Annie made no reply.

  "She heard what Miss Penrose said," remarked Eileen. "I noticed that shewas standing by the door when the principal sounded the gong."

  "All the same, she does not always hear what is said," replied Leslie."She lives in a wonderful and strange world of her own. I often doubt ifshe notices what goes on around her."

  "Well, then, you had better remind her. By the way, do you object to usalso coming with you to East Hall this evening?"

  "I shall be very glad," replied Leslie. "I have not seen much of MissLauderdale yet, and am most anxious to hear her speak to-night. I wonderwhat she can want with us all?"

  "Well, there is no good in guessing," said Eileen; "and besides it onlywastes time. What do you mean to do this afternoon, Miss Gilroy?"

  "I have not made any special plans."

  "Well then, won't you come out on the water with us. You have passedyour swimming test, so it is all right. Belle Acheson will be with us;we should like you to know her."

  Leslie promised to come, and the next moment ran up to her own room.Annie was already seated at her desk, and bending over her endlessproblems.

  "We ought to be ready to start for East Hall at 8.25," said Leslie asshe came in. "You will be quite ready then, won't you, Annie dear? I'llput out your dress, and leave everything quite nice and neat for you."

  Annie gazed full up into Leslie's face. When Leslie paused, she saidabruptly:

  "I do wish, Leslie Gilroy, you would not worry me."

  Leslie started back, looking hurt and dismayed.

  "I don't mean to worry you," she said in a low voice. "Of course if youreally feel that I worry you, I had better leave you alone."

  "You do annoy me dreadfully. I liked you very much yesterday, but I feelnow that you are watching me all the time, and I can't stand it. Do letme alone. Aren't you going out? I know it is not necessary for you tospend all your time in study; but I am different. Do go and leave me. Idon't wish to be ungrateful; but I wish you would let me have the roomto myself for a little."

  "I shall go by and by," said Leslie coldly. She was more hurt than shecared to own. She left Annie's window, and, going to her own side of theroom, took up a novel and tried to bury herself in its contents. Theother girls had promised to sing out to her, from the gravel sweepbelow, when they were ready. Until then, she would remain in her ownside of the room, notwithstanding Annie's objection to her doing so.

  Annie went on muttering to herself, rustling her papers, and turning theleaves of her books; once or twice she dropped her pen; once a moan asbitter and laden with sorrow as those she uttered in the night burstfrom her lips. Leslie heard the moan, and found it impossible to forgether. She felt restless and unlike herself. After a time she got up, puther book back in its place, and walked to the door.

  "Ah! thank goodness you are going," said Annie.

  "Don't you think, Annie, you are a little unkind to me?" replied Leslie.

  "Oh, what does a little unkindness matter?" said Annie. "Do you mind, asyou are leaving the room, shutting that window. I have been enduring thetortures of a draught for the last hour, and have lately been sufferingfrom neuralgia."

  "Oh, you poor thing," said Leslie, penitent at once, "why did you nottell me so, or," she added, "why did you not shut your own window?"

  "Because I require fresh air," said Annie, with that utter selfishnesswhich had characterized her before Leslie came, and which had beengrowing a little better lately.

  Leslie went to her window and shut it, sighed as she thought how closeher part of the room would be when she returned later on; and then,putting on her hat and gloves, she ran downstairs.

  She was met in the hall by Lettie. Lettie was extremely popular in herown hall of residence, and had made several friends already in NorthHall. She now ran eagerly up to Leslie.

  "The Chetwynds say you are coming boating with us?"

  "Yes," replied Leslie.

  "And Belle Acheson is to be one of the party," continued Lettie. "Ithink it well to tell you; you must be prepared for a very peculiarperson. But you look worried, Miss Gilroy; is anything wrong?"

  "Oh, nothing," answered Leslie. "I am a little anxious about AnnieColchester."

  "That queer, red-haired girl? I saw her in chapel on Sunday."

  "There are many fine points about her," said Leslie; "but I don't thinkshe is quite well, and I wish she would not work so hard. However, Iwon't think of her now. I cannot do anything to help her just atpresent, and I mean to enjoy myself."

  "Then had not you better come down to the quay. I told the other girls Iwould bring you. The boat we are to have this afternoon is the MerryAlice. Did you pass your swimming test well?"

  "I passed it last week, and was crowned with honors," said Leslie with amerry smile. All her usual good spirits returned when she was out in theopen air. The other girls came up, and Belle was duly presented toLeslie Gilroy. Belle was in a dark-brown zephyr dress, made in thesimple
st fashion, and a leather belt encircled her waist. On her headwas a brown hat, mushroom-shaped, trimmed with a plain band of ribbon ofthe same color. She was drawing brown cotton gloves on her hands whenthe introduction to Leslie was made.

  "This is our great friend, Miss Gilroy," said Eileen in an affectionatetone.

  Belle adjusted her spectacles, and looked full at Leslie out of hershort-sighted eyes.

  "How do you do?" she said abruptly. She then turned and spoke toMarjorie.

  "Come on in front, please; I have something I specially wish to say toyou on the subject of a life of absolute devotion. Those great truthswhich ought to agitate the souls of each man and woman worthy of thename have been specially borne in upon me during the last few hours. Ihave just been reading a passage which I should be glad to repeat toyou."

  Marjorie went on a little unwillingly. Eileen stayed behind. Lettielooked at Leslie, and her eyes filled with laughter.

  "There's a slap in the face," she said; "and to you, too, Miss Gilroy.Did I not tell you she was an oddity."

  "Now, Lettie," said Eileen, in an imploring voice, "don't laugh at poorBelle; don't prejudice Miss Gilroy against her. If everybody else wasquite as earnest and sincere, what a different world it would be!"

  "What an appalling world it would be!" exclaimed Lettie; "it would notbe endurable."

  They reached the boats. Eileen and Marjorie, who both rowed well, tookthe oars. Lettie sat in the stern and held the rudder ropes. Leslie andBelle thus found themselves facing each other. Lettie instantly guidedtheir little craft into midstream.

  "Yes," began Belle, "I have submitted for one hour, under protest."

  As she spoke she looked full at Leslie.

  "I don't quite understand you," said Leslie in some astonishment.

  "I dare say you don't, but my time is all marked out--I keep atime-table, and adhere to it rigidly. If you have not yet commenced sucha valuable help to the spending of your time, let me recommend you to doso without delay. Now that I look at you more closely, I observe in youreyes a really serious light. Believe me, I am never mistaken in myjudgment of anyone. Long, long ago I saw that those two dear girlsbehind us, who are using their muscular strength in propelling usdownstream, had real intelligence, that fine brains filled theircraniums. I regret to say that Miss Lettie Chetwynd, the young personwho is steering us, is of different metal. I do not say that she has nother use in the world; but with her and hers I have nothing to do. Nowyou--what did you say your name was?"

  "Leslie Gilroy."

  "You, Leslie Gilroy (what a very booky name!), have a meditative face;there is thought expressed in the firm curves of your lips. You may gofar, you may fail; but, on the other hand, to you may be given a greatsuccess. Think what an awful responsibility is placed in your hands. Youmay use life in its fullness, or you may fritter your gifts and be adrone. May I ask you which life you mean to choose--the full or theempty?"

  "I shall certainly aim for the full life," replied Leslie in someastonishment. "Whether I succeed or not remains to be proved."

  "Your success depends on yourself--the single eye, remember, theuntarnished soul----"

  Belle's words were interrupted by a burst of laughter from Lettie.

  "I beg your pardon," she said; "but really, Belle Acheson, you are tooabsurd for anything."

  Belle closed her eyes and slightly turned her back upon Lettie. She madeno other reply of any sort.

  "I know you mean kindly, Miss Acheson," said Leslie, who could neverbear to distress anyone; "but how can you know, as you have never seenme before, whether mine is an earnest character or not?"

  "Ah, you little guess my capacity," said Belle in a patronizing voice."It is my habit to pass each girl, when I see her first, in mentalreview. Most, I must tell you frankly, require the merest glance to tellme what failures they are certain to be. By a flash of my eyes I candiscern how petty and small are the qualities of their souls; but you,Miss Gilroy, have a well-developed soul. Up to the present you havenever let it die. Think how awful it is to carry within your breast adead soul!"

  "Yes; it would be very bad," said Leslie.

  "Bad? Awful is the word to use. Strong language is required for such aterrible possession; but it is a fact that many people do. I may almostsay that most do. A dead soul. Let us ponder the words; let the thoughtsink deep. You observe the fact of its existence in the dull andfrivolous expression which looks out of so many eyes, in the poor aimswhich animate so many people, in the ignoble lives they lead. Ah! howgreat might man be if he could only soar!"

  Here Belle raised her eyes to the sky.

  "What a mercy she is not steering," thought Leslie to herself. "Weshould all be in that bindweed at the other side of the river by now."

  "Belle, dear," said Eileen, pushing out her foot and giving her friend akick, "do, please, come down from the clouds. We were so anxious tointroduce you to Miss Gilroy, and I am afraid you are frightening her.Don't be quite so--so outre during your first interview."

  "Do I frighten you?" said Belle. "Am I outre?"

  She almost glared into Leslie's face.

  "Miss Gilroy, whatever happens, I cannot but be myself." As she spokeshe started forward, and laid one of her very thin large angular handson Leslie's arm. The hand clutched the slight round arm so firmly thatit was with difficulty poor Leslie could suppress a scream.

  "Yes," continued Belle; "I can stand things as they are no longer. Evenmy own familiar friends turn from me. Do you think I want to deceiveyou? Do you think for one single instant I want you to suppose that I amother than what I am--a girl, nay, a woman, whose aim in life is to digdeep into the vast mines of the mighty past, those great mines whichhave been left to us by the dead and gone. I want to acquire--why, do yousuppose? In order to help my fellow-creatures, in order to impress uponthem the greatness of eternity and the frivolity of time, in order, whenI really pass away, that I may leave footprints behind me on the sandsof time."

  "Hear, hear!" said Marjorie.

  "Let us quote from Longfellow now; it would be most appropriate," saidLettie from the stern.

  "Marjorie," said Belle, "I am sorry that you have interrupted me withthat very silly remark. As to the young person in the stern, I refuse toacknowledge her existence; but you, Marjorie, are laughing at me."

  "Indeed, I am not," said Marjorie.

  "Nor do I laugh at you," said Leslie. "I am sure you mean very well,indeed, and in some ways I agree with you. I also want to lead theearnest life."

  "Do you? Is that a fact? Tell me how you furnish your room?"

  "But I cannot imagine what that has to do with it," said Leslie.

  "A vast deal, for it shows the real inclination of the soul. Is the soulgoing to steep itself in luxury, or is it going to cast away allhindrances, and run its race in fullness, in power? Is it to be cloggedand hindered? Speak; don't keep me in suspense. How have you furnishedyour room?"

  "My half-room--I only possess half a room--was furnished for me by thegovernors of the college," said Leslie. "It is true that I have added afew things, for I like pretty rooms. I like to look nice myself. Mymother has always taught me to pay a great deal of attention to personalappearance."

  Belle heaved a deep sigh, and became instantly silent.

  "Have you nothing more to say, Belle?" cried Marjorie.

  "Nothing," replied Belle. Her eyes were now shut. "I am disappointed."She sat back in her seat, and did not trouble herself to glance atLeslie for some time.

  "What a blessing for you," whispered Lettie, bending forward from herplace in the stern.

  "But I am really sorry for her," was Leslie's gentle response. "She isfull of earnestness; but she goes too far."

  "For goodness' sake, don't let her hear you. Her eyes are closed for thepresent, and she is only muttering to herself. What a comfort if sheremains in that state for the rest of our row!"

  "Belle," said Marjorie, "what are you doing now? You are sayingsomething; what is it?"

  "When my nerves
are ruffled, I always find that recitation is thegreatest help to me," said Belle. "I am reciting at the present moment apoem from one of our great writers. The frivolous fact that I am out onthe water, being rowed by you and Eileen, that I am wasting some of theprecious hours of a golden day, must be counteracted as far as possible.But stay; would you two girls," here she glanced at Marjorie and Eileen,purposely avoiding both Leslie and Lettie, "would you two like me torecite aloud the poem in question?"

  "Oh, for goodness' sake, no!" cried Lettie; "that would be quite thelast straw."

  "I don't think," said Belle glancing in Lettie's direction, "that theremark of the young person who holds the tiller-ropes ought to beconsidered. What do you two say?"

  "Of course Eileen and I would like it very much," said Marjorie; "butLeslie is our guest, and we must consult her."

  "She would not appreciate," said Belle; "but perhaps, as you say, she isyour guest. Well, I submit. My disappointment has been deep with regardto Miss Gilroy."

  "Whether you are disappointed in me or not, please try to enlighten meby your recitation," said Leslie, "for I should enjoy it of all things."

  "I don't suppose for a single instant you will care for it; but I willdo my duty. A word may sink in, a tone may have an effect; there isnever any saying. A suitable stanza occurs to me. I am about to quotefrom the great work of Samuel Daniel, who was born at Taunton, inSomersetshire, in 1562, and died in 1619. His 'History of the Civil Warsbetween York and Lancaster,' in eight books, was first published in1595. The highest quality of his verse is a quiet, pensive reflection.Now, pray, listen. The poem, a stanza of which I will recite, is called'Musophilus.' It is addressed to 'Philocoslus,' a lover of the world.Musophilus is a lover of the Muse. It commences thus----"

  "We had better stop rowing," said Eileen. The girls shipped their oarsand bent forward. Belle, with a theatrical gesture, and a flinging up ofher right hand, commenced:

  "'Either Truth, Goodness, Virtue are not still The self-same which they are, and always one, But alter to the project of our will; Or we our actions make them wait upon, Putting them in the livery of our skill, And cast them off again when we have done.'"

  Here Belle raised herself in the boat.

  "For goodness' sake, sit still, or we'll be upset," said Lettie. "Inaddition to poetry of the Middle Ages, a ducking is more than I amprepared for."

  Belle reseated herself, made an impatient gesture, pushed back hermushroom hat, and resumed:

  "'And for the few that only lend their ear, That few is all the world; which with a few Do ever live, and move, and work, and stir. This is the heart doth feel, and only know; The rest of all that only bodies bear, Roll up and down, and fill up but the row.'"

  "Very fine, indeed," said Lettie; "and I quite see the allusion tomyself. I am one of those who but a body bear, roll up and down, andfill up but the row."

  To this remark Belle did not deign any reply. She now turned again toLeslie.

  "Notwithstanding the disappointment you gave me with regard to yourroom," she said, "I have not the slightest doubt that you understandwhat Musophilus alludes to?"

  "To a certain extent, yes," replied Leslie.

  Belle stretched out her hand.

  "I believe I shall win you," she cried. "Come to my room to-morrow; Ishall see you alone. Don't fail to be with me between half-past two andthree."

  Leslie promised.

  "Oh, how could you?" whispered Lettie. "I pity you from my soul; youhave done for yourself now."

  "I don't pity myself," answered Leslie. "I am certain Miss Acheson hassome fine ideas; and that I shall derive benefit from a conversationwith her."