The Girls of St. Wode's

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XX

  NOT A BIT LIKE IT.

  At the appointed hour, Leslie Gilroy went across to Belle Acheson'sroom. That young lady was in and received her with a fair amount ofgraciousness.

  "Sit down, pray," she said. "You will like that chair which faces theview. I prefer the one with my back to it. That view upsets me when I amvery busy over my studies. But enough about Ego for the present. Let melook at you steadily."

  Leslie seated herself on the very stiff and uncomfortable chair pointedout by her companion, and Belle eyed her from head to foot.

  "Yours is a very great temptation," she said at last slowly. "I pity youfrom the bottom of my heart."

  "Mine is a very great temptation!" repeated Leslie. She colored, and fora moment felt slightly alarmed. Was it possible that Belle knew abouther anxiety with regard to Annie? But her companion's next remarkdispelled this illusion.

  "I refer to your good looks," she said. "Those like you who arecondemned to the trial of regular features, bright eyes, and masses ofhair, have a struggle to fulfil their part worthily in life's battle.But there, I will add no more."

  "I totally and completely disagree with you," cried Leslie. "If you andI are to be friends, you must allow me to speak out quite frankly. MissAcheson, I heartily respect you. I know that you are earnest and clever,and----"

  "Don't flatter; a flatterer is indeed a false friend."

  "But I am not flattering you. I do think what I have just said to youmost truly and sincerely; but now I must speak on my own account. I havebeen taught by a very wise and good mother to regard a pleasant andpretty face as a blessing, as a talent sent from God. I have to use itaright in influencing for good my fellowmen. Beauty is a power which canbe used for good. If one thinks of it in that way one need never bevain."

  "And you have the audacity to tell me that you think yourselfgood-looking?"

  "I do," answered Leslie calmly. "I know I have a very pretty face; itwould be the height of affectation for me to say anything else. But donot let us talk any more about personal appearance. Surely you did notwant me to visit you to discuss my looks?"

  "By no means. From Eileen or Marjorie the words you have just utteredwould disgust me so completely that I should ask the one who had sospoken to leave the room; but you have something queer about you,something earnest and out of the common; you are not an ordinary girl,and cannot be judged by ordinary standards. I am convinced that you willnever take life frivolously."

  "I hope I never shall, Belle."

  "Belle! You call me Belle, and you only met me for the first timeyesterday!"

  "I hope you do not think me presuming," said Leslie--she held out herhand to Belle as she spoke--"but I feel somehow that we are going to befriends."

  Belle's thin hand was immediately outstretched, and for an instant sheclasped Leslie's--she then let it drop with a sigh.

  "Why had I not a sister like you?" she said. "It is hard to go throughlife without sympathy, and I get little."

  "If you will allow me, I will give you plenty in the future."

  "If I will allow you! But there, perhaps this is a temptation. Are wereally to be friends? If so, you will promise not to tempt me."

  "In what way? How can I?"

  "You will not insert the thin end of the wedge; you will not cause me toallow luxuries to creep into my life? Oh, I have set myself sostrenuously against all that sort of thing. I live so fixedly by rule.Now, a carpet to the floor, an easy-chair to lounge in, curtains to thewindows to keep out the racking heat of the midday sun--all these thingswould be sins in a person like me. You will not insist, too, upon myspending money--money, that precious gift--on dress. Oh, I assure you thesimplest covering does. You know how short our lives are; and ourbodies, are they not just clothes for the soul? Why need we pamper thebody. It is the soul that lives forever; it alone requires carefulattention."

  "Why, Belle, you ought to have been in a nunnery."

  "There, now, you are laughing at me."

  "I am not, indeed; but I do feel that the soul is more comfortable, andmore likely to thrive, if it is lodged in a nicely cared for body. Whyshould it not have a nice, pretty house to live in? And as to dress, Ido hope you will allow me to say one thing: that a dress, howeversimple, ought to be whole and decent-looking and clean."

  "Oh, of course, I admit that; but is anything the matter with mine?"

  "Have you a clothes brush, dear: I should so like to brush off the mudfrom the tail of your skirt."

  "Thank you, thank you; but I cannot permit it. You are now verging intothe commonplace. You resemble that terrible young person, LetitiaChetwynd. She is really, I assure you, one of the trials of my life. Sheis a butterfly, impossible to be suppressed. She visits me in my roomand insists upon talking her frivolous nonsense until my head aches. Irepeat the words of the great masters of literature, under my breath,when she is present. She sees me muttering, and yet she will not go.There she sits with needle and thread repairing my garments, and I--Ipermit it."

  "I think she is awfully kind to you," said Leslie. "You ought to begrateful."

  "I'm not--I can't be. She and I are abhorrent each to the other. As thepoles are we asunder. But do not let us waste these precious momentstalking of her. I want so much to hear about yourself--your ambitions,your hopes, your desires. What, for instance, are your aims with regardto literature? You will take honors, of course?"

  "I don't know," replied Leslie. "It requires a great deal of talent totake honors in work like mine; but I will admit that I am strugglingvery hard with that object in view."

  "Then, let me help you. Let us talk over our mutual studies. Here, sitclose to me, draw up your chair near mine. It is sometimes permitted forthose whose souls are akin to clasp their earthly hands together. Nowthen, let us speak. Ah! when you are almost intoxicated with those greatand stimulating thoughts, does not your soul burn, does not you brainseem to expand until it almost bursts?"

  "Never," said Leslie: "if it did I should feel very much alarmed aboutmyself."

  Belle uttered a sigh.

  "We are differently affected by these things, I see," she remarked. "Icannot explain to you the intense, the passionate pleasure I feel when Iam engaged over hard mental work. There is no stimulant like it. You arenot laughing at me?"

  "Indeed I am not," said Leslie. "I said before that I respected you as Irespect anyone else who is wholly in earnest."

  "In earnest," said Belle; "yes, indeed, I am that. I am ever thinking ofKingsley's passionate words, 'Be earnest, earnest, earnest; mad if thouwilt.' Oh, Miss Gilroy, do think of the frivolity of the greater numberof our sex. Even in this house of learning frivolity creeps in."

  Leslie smiled and endeavored to draw her companion into more reasonableconversation.

  "Do you know what my aim in life is?" said Belle at last. "I willwhisper it to you; but not even to Marjorie or Eileen have I yetconfided it."

  "I will respect your secret, and I am very glad you are going to tellme," replied Leslie, for she thought to herself that nothing would dothis queer girl more good than to have a confidante.

  "Well," continued Belle, "my mother is fairly well off--of course notnearly so rich as the Chetwynds; but as I am her only child, she givesme plenty of money for my own personal use. Quite apart from the feesand general expenses of the college, I receive twenty-five pounds aterm. Now, I have managed since I came here to spend something underfive pounds a term, therefore I have already a nice little sum put by.In that humble little desk there lies in notes and gold over eightypounds. I will show you my little bank."

  She jumped up hastily, unlocked her desk, and taking out a canvas bag,poured the contents into her lap.

  "My savings," she cried; "what I have secured in place of flowers, inplace of cocoa-parties, in place of luxurious furniture, in place of thefal-lals and prettinesses which take the tone out of life. Do you knowwhat this money is the nest-egg for?"

  "Some good purpose, I am sure," replied Leslie.


  "An excellent purpose. I mean by and by to found a nunnery on a newline. A college after Tennyson's idea will be realized by me, wherethose girls who wish to devote themselves wholly and completely to studyshall live their lives. I shall begin my house of learning in a humblecottage. I shall take in my girl residents on the cheapest terms. Thehouse will be small, the furniture of the plainest, the food just whatis sufficient to sustain life. I could keep a niche for you if yousignified your wish at an early date."

  "Thank you," answered Leslie, rising as she spoke, "but I could notaccept it. My work will be in the midst of the busy world--not in anyhermitage. Belle, you have a great deal in you; but you are mistaken onmany points. You need some lessons in life----"

  "Oh, don't, don't," said Belle, putting her fingers to her ears. "Thisvisit has been so refreshing, and I like you so much: but don't spoil itby an inopportune and ineffectual lecture. Go away, take your beautifulface out of my sight; don't haunt me with it a moment longer. It ispossible that I may see it to-night instead of the pure, pale lineamentof Spenser's Faerie Queene--instead of Dante's Beatrice--instead of thedivine Althea in Richard Lovelace's matchless verses. Good-by, good-by."

  Leslie went to the door, and Belle saw her off.

  In some wonder, and feeling almost dazed by her recent conversation, shereturned to her own room in North Hall.

  Just half an hour before dinner Annie walked in. She entered the roombriskly, greeted Leslie with a hard and yet excited laugh, and, tossingoff her hat, seated herself on the side of her sofa-bed.

  "I had a good day in town," she exclaimed. "What are you staring at mefor?"

  "I am sorry. I did not know I was staring at you," answered Leslie. "Iam glad you are back again; but why did you not tell me this morningthat you were going to town?"

  "And why should I tell you? I never knew that I was obliged to makeconfidences to you. Well, I don't want to say anything offensive now;and I am in good spirits, very good indeed. I had to go to town onurgent business. It was necessary to get Miss Lauderdale's leave. Shewas kind enough to forgive me for my apparent rudeness of last night,and also to give me the necessary permission to spend to-day in London."

  "I am rather surprised," answered Leslie; "but of course, as you say, itis not my affair."

  "It certainly is not, and I trust you won't interfere further in thematter. Keep your own counsel, that is all I ask of you."

  As Annie spoke she started up, removing her jacket, and, going to hertoilet table, began to arrange her fuzzy locks. With brush in hand sheturned round and looked at Leslie.

  "I am sorry I have been rude to you of late," she said: "but the factis, I was so worried I scarcely knew what I was doing. I don't pretendfor a moment that you have not been good to me, very good; now it is myturn to be good to you. I shall make myself as cheerful and pleasant asI can in the future. I shan't slave so hard over books either. I havefound out for myself that much study is a weariness to the flesh. Butthere, I am much better this evening, much better."

  Leslie did not make any reply. A moment or two later the girls went downto dinner together. At dinner, Annie, contrary to her wont, talked notonly with Leslie but with the other girls who sat near. She laughed agood deal, described some of her adventures in town in a spiritedmanner, and was to all appearance in the best of spirits. Leslie, as shewatched her, could not help wondering if she had got the money shewanted so badly. She hated to follow Annie with her eyes, and yet thethought of her and her trouble was never really absent from her mind.

  Leslie was engaged to attend a cocoa-party at West Hall that evening;but even there she could not get Annie out of her head. When between tenand eleven that night she returned to her own room, Annie had alreadygone to bed and was fast asleep. Leslie gave a sigh of relief as shewatched her in this peaceful slumber.

  The next day, immediately after lunch, as Annie and Leslie were bothengaged over their respective tasks, a servant came up and knocked atthe door. She brought in a card on a salver.

  "A gentleman is downstairs, Miss Gilroy," she said. "He wants to know ifhe can see you?"

  Leslie took up the card and read the name: "Mr. Charles Parker." Sheuttered an exclamation of astonishment. Annie, who was buried, not inher studies but in a novel, did not even look up; and Leslie, saying shewould see the gentleman immediately, left the room.

  She ran quickly downstairs to the common room, where her visitor waswaiting for her.

  "This is very kind of you, Mr. Parker," she said, holding out her handto him; "but I trust nothing is wrong at home?"

  "Nothing whatever, young lady, and I am delighted to see you," repliedthat individual, rubbing his hands and looking affectionately and yetwith anxiety at Leslie.

  "It was good of you to come to see me," said Leslie, "and of course I amever so pleased. When did you see mother last?"

  "Three or four days ago. All the young 'uns are doing well, and yourmother looks, if I may use the word, blooming. She is not working quiteso hard. By the way, Miss Leslie, I have a great respect for that fineyoung brother of yours, Llewellyn; he has the right stuff in him. I amonly biding my time to give him a leg up."

  "But I don't think Llewellyn means to take a leg up, as you call it,from anyone; he is very independent, Mr. Parker."

  "Aye, aye; but there are ways and means of helping an honest lad, and Iam not the one to shirk my duty. But now, Miss Leslie, I have come downhere because I am a little alarmed with regard to you."

  "A little alarmed with regard to me! What can you mean?" said Leslie.

  "Let us go out somewhere," said Mr. Parker. "Somehow it seems to me thatthese walls may have ears, and there are such a lot of girls coming andgoing. So this is what you call a college, is it?"

  "This is one of the houses of residence at St. Wode's College," repliedLeslie. "The college and lecture-rooms themselves are in a separatebuilding; but of course we attend a great many lectures at the men'shalls."

  "Very improper, indeed, young lady; but if it's the fashion, why, Ican't say a word. In my time such an opportunity for indiscriminateflirtation----"

  "Oh, we none of us dream of flirting," said Leslie with a laugh; "andthen we are properly chaperoned, you know. I assure you the thing ismost correct and proper."

  "Well, I'll take your word for it, though I don't quite believe it allthe same. When pretty girls are about, and young men to the fore, wealways know what that sort of thing means."

  "You ought to come here for a time, Mr. Parker; seeing is believing."

  "Not I, not I, young lady. Do you think I'd mix myself up in a mare'snest of this sort? No, no; but I am bound to believe the words of apretty girl like yourself."

  "Would you really care to go for a walk, Mr. Parker?"

  "Yes, Miss Leslie. I have got something to say, something not toopleasant either, but which of course you must be in a manner preparedfor." Here Mr. Parker tried to fix Leslie with his eyes. She gazed up athim in astonishment. He sighed and felt himself coloring.

  "You remind me of my own girl," he said. "You don't know what a keenpleasure it is to me to do anything for you on that account; but there,time presses, and I must go back by the five-o'clock train."

  "Well, I will just get my hat. I am most anxious to know how you canpossibly have heard bad news of me."

  "She does not look a bit like it," muttered the merchant to himself asLeslie ran out of the room.