“We all know that sort of goodbye,” said Maud, “and it was a very natural occasion on which to have one. Now do leave poor Clemence alone, Esther. Anyone might find the first day confusing, and you are not doing anything to make it less so. And naturally she knows her own affairs.”
“Well, if she does not, she can easily produce some others,” said Esther, in a rapid undertone. “And I do not think she is confused. And I quite agree with everyone that she is clever.”
“Can you call Miss Petticott by the old nursery name without getting a lump in your throat?” said Gwendolen.
“I do not think about it; we have done it for so long,” said Clemence, her voice uncertain, as this condition threatened her.
“Poor Clemence! She has had a long day, and we have all been teasing her,” said Maud.
Esther turned her pillow and closed her eyes, dissociating herself from a situation to which she had perhaps sufficiently contributed.
“I am going to get you a glass of water, Clemence,” said Gwendolen. “I think a cup of cold water is what it would be called.”
“Gwendolen, are you thinking of what you are saying?” said Maud.
Clemence rose in the morning with a sense that a cloud threatened her world, and that she must walk warily until it was dispelled.
Things passed as she would have expected, until they assembled in the classroom. Miss Chancellor checked the names and set matters on foot, and waited for Miss Laurence, who was to succeed her. She had a tendency to welcome encounter with the latter, and was not expected to withdraw until it had taken place. Miss Laurence entered a little behind her time, a little absent and distraught, and more than a little dishevelled, which last circumstance was accepted as an occasional adjunct to a picture that as a whole invited no criticism. Miss Chancellor rose, collided with her, made a full apology, and was repaid by a more perfunctory one. Gwendolen opened the door for Miss Chancellor and received a courteous acknowledgment, which she did not take as directed to herself. Miss Laurence confronted her class and proceeded to fulfil her character.
“Now have I left my books behind? Shall I have to teach you out of my head? I hope I have not forgotten all I know, as I have no doubt you have. Perhaps we had better all begin at the beginning.”
“There are your books, Miss Laurence,” said Verity, indicating a pile that Miss Laurence had just put down.
“So they are, my good, observant child. Now we can make our impression on Clemence. She is used to masculine tuition, and is ready to look down on us. Will you read the Latin in turn and then translate the passages? I know you are not prepared, and that it will be painful to hear you, but we have to get through the hour. Maud, Verity, Esther, Gwendolen, Clemence. That is your order on the books. I wonder what it will be at the end of the term.”
“I expect Clemence will be the first, and before that date,” said Esther.
It looked as if this might be the case. Clemence was in advance of the rest, and when she had a private lesson in Greek, also acquitted herself well. She was treated with ordinary, unexaggerated approval, but she felt her success, saw a word exchanged by Miss Laurence and Miss Chancellor, and had bright eyes and cheeks by the middle of the morning.
“Nothing succeeds like success,” said Esther. “Would anyone think that Clemence was the same person as she was yesterday?”
“Well, you are rather different yourself, Esther,” said Maud. “And it is not too much to say that we hope you will remain so. You and Clemence were both over-tired, though she gave less evidence of it.”
“Her memory was odd,” said Esther. “That is a sign of fatigue.”
“Perhaps it is as well not to talk about the different signs of it, Esther.”
“Miss Chancellor, I have conquered myself,” said Gwendolen. “I have got over my jealousy of Clemence. It belongs to a self I have left behind.”
“I am glad its life was such a short one, Gwendolen,” said Miss Chancellor, finding her amusement echoed by Lesbia, who stood, as she frequently did, in silent attention.
“Her success shall be sweeter to me than my own.”
“Your success would be sweet to me, Gwendolen,” said Lesbia, advancing and speaking gravely. “Yes it would. And I mean what I say. I hope you will try to attain it this term.”
“I am not a clever person, Miss Firebrace.”
“No, you are not. That is not your word. But you have your own capacities, if you would use them. And I am asking you to do so.”
“Yes, Miss Firebrace.”
“I hope you will all act up to the best that is in you,” said Lesbia, looking from face to face. “This is a small form, and each of you has a chance to make her mark, and leave it. That is not always the case and may not always be so. You should make the most of it.”
“The forms seem to get smaller and smaller. I suppose the school is going down,” said Esther, after allowing time for Lesbia to withdraw.
“And why do you think that, Esther?” said the latter, who had not availed herself of it.
“Well, if the numbers get less, I suppose that is how it must be.”
“Our numbers are larger,” said Lesbia, in a cool, incidental tone. “We have arranged small forms, and more of them, for your benefit. We hope to be able to maintain the arrangement, but questions are involved that are beyond your scope. That is why I have advised you to make the most of it.”
“I suppose our parents do not pay enough,” said Esther, after waiting again for Lesbia’s withdrawal, and this time ascertaining that it had taken place.
“Well, there must be a certain correspondence in things, Esther,” said Maud.
“My father says the bills increase. And I cannot see any advantage in such small forms myself.”
“Well, I can, Esther,” said Miss Marathon, entering with her books under her arm, and in no doubt of their whereabouts, “if I may answer a speech that was not addressed to me. It prevents pupils from getting to the back of the class and taking advantage of it in their own way. I think we remember some incidents of that kind.”
The girls just glanced at Esther, who had figured in one of these, and silence ensued while Miss Marathon chalked a problem on the board. As the girls took it down, Esther’s voice was again audible, though intentionally only to her neighbour.
“This place is a nest of professional eavesdroppers.”
Miss Marathon raised her eyes in complex feeling, and a voice came as though in response to the mute appeal.
“It is true that I have a profession, Esther, but it is not that of eavesdropper. I have a right to walk where I will in my own house, and I shall continue to use it. And it is a pity you so often say things that you do not wish to be heard, that is, that you are a little ashamed of. If you broke yourself of the habit, you would not need to be concerned about what you choose to call eavesdropping.”
There was silence over this choice of Esther’s, and Lesbia continued in an even, distinct tone.
“I do not take a harsh or narrow view of the intercourse amongst you. No, I do not, Esther. You are allowed more latitude than is often the case. You would not meet it everywhere. I know that young people must talk, and that it is idle to look for much weight or worth in what they say—or to listen for it, if you will.” Miss Marathon just raised her eyes at this open appraisement. “But things must be kept within certain bounds, and within those bounds they will be kept. Do you understand me, Esther?”
“Yes, Miss Firebrace.”
“Do you not all agree with me?” said Lesbia, looking round.
There was no reply, and Lesbia repeated her question in a manner that necessitated one.
“Yes, Miss Firebrace.”
“Well, I will leave you to your mathematics. Indeed, I am due elsewhere,” said Lesbia, taking out her watch and turning on her way. “You will forgive the interruption, Miss Marathon; it was not of my seeking.”
“Now here is Clemence working away by herself, while the rest of us have been wasting our
time,” said Miss Marathon, more concerned with restoring normal conditions than with doing justice to her partner. “Now let us see how she has managed. What is her answer to the question?”
Clemence gave it, and Miss Marathon smiled in approval.
“That is very good. We have all been set an example. And now we will have an easier problem, as we have been a little disturbed. Clemence has done it in her head! So I will ask her not to answer the next one. We must ?ll be given a chance, and mere quickness is not everything. Not that I know why I use the word, ‘mere’; it may be based on something deeper. That is right, Verity; I am glad someone else has managed it. And now here is one that calls for something more than quickness. Write the answer in your books, and I will come round and see. No, do not give up without making an effort, Gwendolen. Trying in itself has its educational value. Verity and Clemence have both managed it. We must accept them as our leaders. Maud, it is time that you made some contribution to our success.”
“I am not good at mathematics, Miss Marathon.”
“I know it is not your strong point. But Clemence is good at other things as well. Indeed, she refutes the theory that classical and mathematical ability do not meet.”
“Miss Laurence has both,” said Esther, as though the combination were not so rare.
“Yes, there is nothing mutually exclusive about them. And now our time is at an end. Of course it got a little wasted—a little—at the beginning. Yes, Miss Chancellor, you will have your hour. I am not encroaching upon it.”
“Clemence goes from strength to strength, Miss Chancellor,” said Gwendolen. “My heart swells with pride in her.”
“That is more than my heart does in any of you, when I look at last term’s history papers. Apart from Maud, you might all have gone back to your childhood.”
“I thought I was still in my childhood.”
“I am afraid you are, Gwendolen. You are remaining in it a little too long. You must try to get beyond it. Now I am going to read some history aloud, and then you can write a summary of it. That will show me how Clemence competes with the rest.”
“Clemence, Clemence, Clemence!” muttered Esther. “I thought her being Miss Firebrace’s cousin was to make no difference.”
“And you were right, Esther. It is to make none. And she is not Miss Firebrace’s cousin. And ‘compete’ was the wrong word. I am sure she has none of the feelings that it suggests. Now will you all give me your attention?”
“I wish I were having luncheon instead of writing this history,” said Gwendolen, as the hour advanced. “Don’t you wish you were, Miss Chancellor?”
“No, Gwendolen, the wish had not occurred to me. And have I given you permission to interrupt the class?”
“No, Miss Chancellor. But I thought you would be sorry I was tired and hungry and make allowance.”
“Well, if that is really the case, Gwendolen, you may break off and have a rest before luncheon. Now I think of it, you do look a little tired. Has anyone else come to the end of her tether?”
“Yes, Miss Chancellor,” said Esther and Verity together.
“No, thank you, Miss Chancellor,” said Maud, continuing to write.
“Are you tired and hungry, Clemence?”
“No, thank you, Miss Chancellor. But I have finished the account.”
“Well, that is a good reason for leaving it. So we will leave Maud working in solitary state and go into the passage for a breathing-space. Perhaps we do deserve it. The morning is rather long. Not that I do not often wish we could get more into it. So it is ungrateful of me to complain of its length.”
“Miss Chancellor was betrayed into uttering an ordinary human sentiment,” said Verity.
“Yes, I do rather feel that happened to me, Verity,” said Miss Chancellor, laughing and leading the way into the corridor, unconscious of the extent of her self-betrayal. “Why, there is your luncheon bell, Gwendolen, three minutes before its time! Are we to congratulate you?” She laughed at the idea as she directed her steps to the dining-room.
“I am glad the bell is not only Gwendolen’s,” said Clemence.
“Why, so am I, Clemence,” said Miss Chancellor, in a tone of realising something about herself. “I find I am quite glad, now that the moment comes.”
Clemence followed in a mood of exaltation and doubt. She had attained success, but was unsure of its foundations. She had put out her effort, shown her resource, and felt they were seen as the basis of further things. Would she be able to go from strength to strength? Could she keep this distance that might be less than was thought? Was her father so anxious for her success? Was her mother as anxious as she said?
She settled to the work and talk that seemed to constitute her life; paid little heed to the games that did not touch her pride; and took the second place on the weekly lists with a plausible appearance of content, as the first was dedicated to Maud and toil, and held less glamour. No one but the latter, who sometimes had a sense of pursuit, suspected that she strove for the first place. Her mother’s letters moved her to further effort, one from her father to tears. The last rendered her distraught for a day, and showed how easily her ascendance might be lost. Her companions were not without parts, and worked with less pains; what they did not do easily, they left undone; and they could add to their stature when she had to struggle to maintain hers. She began to seek further methods of advance, and one day put an open book, with some lists she was supposed to know, just inside her desk, more to give herself a sense of security than with any definite purpose. Miss Laurence noticed the raised lid, opened it and thrust the book within, giving a rapid glance at Clemence and as rapidly withdrawing it. The latter attended to the lesson without sign of discomposure, though she noticed that Esther and Verity observed the incident and exchanged a glance. At the end of the hour Esther approached.
“Why did you have that book of rules open inside your desk?”
“Oh, it is best to glance over things at the last moment. Don’t you find it is? I find it makes all the difference. It brings things to the front of your mind, that have got to the back. Everything can’t always be in the foreground.”
Verity stood with her eyes on Clemence, and said nothing.
“Miss Laurence shut it up and put it away quickly enough,” said Esther.
“Perhaps she thought Clemence might open her desk and take a peep,” said Gwendolen with a laugh.
“You should not say things like that, Gwendolen, even as a joke,” said Maud.
“Many a true word is spoken in jest,” said Esther.
“But many more untrue ones,” said Clemence.
“Yes, I think that is so, Clemence,” said Lesbia at the door, where she had heard the last speeches without their context.
“True words are more often spoken in a more trying spirit,” said Clemence, causing Lesbia to laugh, and feeling she had strengthened her position.
Miss Laurence’s manner hardly altered to Clemence; she gave her the benefit of an obvious doubt; and the latter came to believe she had not been doubted. The placing of an open book inside her desk became a practice, and several times obtained her an increase of credit. Esther suspected her methods, but nothing was said, though there were whispers within her hearing. She hardly realised their menace, took the reluctance to speak as a sign of uncertainty rather than discomfiture. One day the whispers took a more open form. Lesbia commented on the standard of the class, and mentioned Clemence, who was now at its head. When she had gone, Esther spoke in a casual manner.
“Do you like to be first in the form, Clemence?”
“Well, it is as good as any other place.”
“It must be better than that to you, or you would not take so much trouble to get to it.”
“Clemence only does what we all do, Esther,” said Maud, who had missed the whispers and was at pains to show no chagrin. “We all like the first place better than any other.”
“I should not like it, if I were Clemence.”
“Nons
ense, Esther, of course you would.”
“I should be too little at home in it to be comfortable,” said Gwendolen. “And if my parents saw it on my report, the shock might outweigh the pleasure.”
“Try it, Gwendolen, and see if that is the case.”
“I don’t see why you should not say what you mean, Esther,” said Verity, drawing with a pencil on her desk.
“Oh, I can’t go any further. I don’t know what words to use. It is not fair to have to find them.”
“What is it all about?” said Gwendolen, opening her eyes.
“Nothing at all, Gwendolen, I should say,” said Maud.
“Things are not often about nothing,” said Esther. “There is no smoke without flame.”
“No, Esther, but there may be a good deal of smoke with very little flame,” said Lesbia, at the door. “We should be prepared for that, as life goes by. It may lead to broader judgment.”
“Words may give rise to thoughts, as well as thoughts to words,” said Clemence.
Lesbia rested her eyes on her and passed on her way.
Esther said no more at the time, felt she might get into personal disrepute, and things went on until the examinations.
Then Clemence resorted to her method when answering a paper, arrested the eyes of Esther, Verity and Maud, and the resulting tension brought the mistress from her desk, and the matter into the open. The book was confiscated and the examination proceeded, Esther working with an easier heart and Clemence with a heavier one, Maud with an air of keeping aloof, and Verity and Gwendolen with covert communication, as the latter sought explanation and was accorded it. At the end of the hour the mistress collected the papers with a single glance at Clemence, and the girls hardly waited for the door to close before they formed a group.
“Clemence, you cannot go on like this,” said Verity. “No one will speak to you or know you. And there is no meaning in that kind of success.”
“It is worse than none,” said Esther. “It can’t give you any satisfaction.”
“Why do you need to do it?” said Gwendolen. “Don’t you do well enough without it?”
Two Worlds and Their Ways Page 11