CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
GOD'S OPPORTUNITY.
After the meeting with Captain Fanshawe in the Park, Claire'srelationship with Mary Rhodes sensibly improved. In the first place,her own happiness made her softer and more lenient in her judgment, forshe _was_ deeply, intensely happy, with a happiness which all herreasonings were powerless to destroy.
"My dear, what nonsense!" she preached to herself in elderlyremonstrating fashion. "You met the man, and he was pleased to seeyou--he seemed quite anxious to meet you again. Perfectly natural!Pray don't imagine any special meaning in _that_! You looked quite anattractive little girl in your pretty blue dress, and men like to talkto attractive little girls. I dare say he says just the same to dozensof girls!" So spake the inner voice, but spoke in vain. The bestthings of life are beyond reasoning. As in religion reason leads us, asit were, to the very edge of the rock of proven fact, then faith takeswing, and soars above the things of earth into the great silence wherethe soul communes with God, so in love there comes to the heart asweetness, a certainty, which no reasoning can shake. As Erskine's eyeshad looked into hers in those moments of farewell, Claire had realisedthat between this man and herself there existed a bond which wasstronger than spoken word.
So far as she could foresee, they were hopelessly divided by thecircumstances of life, but in the first dawn of love no lover troubleshimself about what the future may bring; the sweetness of the present isall-sufficient. Claire was happy, and longed for every one else to beas happy as herself. Moreover, her suspicions concerning Major Carewhad been lulled to rest by Erskine's favourable pronouncement.Personally she did not like him, but this was, after all, a matter oftaste; she could not approve his actions, but conceivably there might beexplanations of which she was unaware. Her manner to Cecil regained itsold spontaneous friendliness, and Cecil responded with almost patheticreadiness. In her ungracious way she had grown fond of her pretty,kindly companion, and had missed the atmosphere of home which herpresence had given to the saffron parlour. As they sat over theirsimple supper, she would study Claire's face with a questioning glance,and one night the question found vent in words.
"You look mightily pleased with yourself, young woman! Your eyes aresparkling as if you were having a firework exhibition on your ownaccount. I never saw a school-mistress look so perky at the end of thesummer term! Look as if you'd come into a fortune!"
"Wish I had!" sighed Claire, thankful to switch the conversation on to asafe topic. "It would come in most usefully at the moment. What areyou going to do for the summer hols, Cecil? Is there any possibilityof--"
"No," Cecil said shortly. "And the regiment is going into camp, so hewill be out of town. I'm not bothering my head about holidays--quiteenough to do with this wretched Matric. The Head is keen to make a goodshow this year, for the Dulwich School beat us last year, and, as usual,all the responsibility and all the blame is put on the poor mistresses.You can't make girls work if they don't want, you can't cram theirbrains when they've no brains to cram; but those wretched examiners senda record of all the marks, so you can see exactly where they fall short.Woe betide the mistress who is responsible for that branch! I wouldn'tmind prophesying that if the German doesn't come out better than lastyear, Fraulein will be packed off. I wouldn't be too sure of myself.I've done all right so far, but the Head is not as devoted to me as shemight be. I don't think she'd be sorry to have an excuse for gettingrid of me. That's one of the delightful aspects of our position--we areabsolutely at the mercy of a woman who, from sheer force ofcircumstances, becomes more of an autocrat every year. The Committeelisten to her, and accept every word she says; the staff know betterthan to dispute a single order. We'd stand on our head in rows if shemade it a rule! The pupils scuttle like rabbits when they see hercoming, and cheer themselves hoarse every time she speaks. No humanwoman can live in that atmosphere for years and keep a cool head!"
"She's rather a dear, though, all the same!" Claire said loyally. Shehad been hurt by the lack of personal interest which Miss Farnboroughshowed in the different members of her staff, but she was unwilling tobrand her as a heartless tyrant. "Anyway," she added hastily, "you arenot satisfied here. If you were going on teaching I should have thoughtyou'd be glad of a change. It would be easy to get another school."
Mary Rhodes looked at her; a long eloquent glance.
"With a good testimonial--yes! Without a good testimonial--no! Atestimonial for twelve years' work depends on one woman, remember--onher prejudice or good nature, on the mood in which she happens to be onone particular day. It might read quite differently because shehappened to have a chill on her liver."
"My dear! there _is_ a sense of justice! There is such a thing ashonesty."
"My dear, I agree. Even so, would you dare to say that the wording of atestimonial would be unaffected by the writer's mood?"
"Surely twelve years in one school--"
"No, it wouldn't! Not necessarily. `Miss Rhodes has been EnglishMistress at Saint Cuthbert's for twelve years. Of late has been erraticin temper. Health uncertain. Examination records less satisfactory.'Well! If you represented another school, would _you_ engage MissRhodes?"
Claire was silent. For the first time she realised the danger of thissingle-handed power. It meant--what might it not mean? It might meanthat the mistress who was unfortunate enough to incur the dislike of herchief, might _never_ be able to procure another post! She might beefficient, she might be hard-working; given congenial surroundings shemight develop into a treasure untold, yet just because of a depreciatingphrase in the wording of a testimonial, no chance would be vouchsafed.No doubt the vast majority of head mistresses were women of judgment,possessing a keen sense of justice and responsibility, yet the factremained that a hasty impulse, a little access of temper in penningthose all-important lines, might mean the end of a career, might meanpoverty, might mean ruin!
Claire shivered, looked across the table at the thin, fretted face andmade a hesitating appeal--
"Cecil dear, I know you are a good teacher. I just love to hear youtalking over your lessons, but you _are_ irritable! One of my girls wascrying the other day. You had given so much homework, and she didn'tunderstand what was to be done, and said she daren't ask. You had been`so cross!' I made a guess at what you wanted, and by good chance I wasright; but if I'd been wrong, the poor thing would have been indisgrace, and honestly it wasn't her fault! She was willing enough."
"Oh, that imbecile Gladys Brown! I know what you mean. I'd explainedit a hundred times. If she'd the brains of a cow she'd have understood.No wonder I was cross. I should have been a saint if I wasn't, and noone can be a saint in the summer term. Did--did any one else see hercry?"
"I think not. No, I managed to comfort her; but if Miss Farnborough hadhappened to come in just at that moment--"
Cecil shrugged and turned the subject, but she took the hint, to thebenefit of her pupils during the next few weeks.
July came in, and with it a spell of unbearable heat. In country placesand by the seashore there was space and air, and clean fragrantsurroundings; but over London hung a misty pall, and not a branch of thedusty trees quivered to the movement of a passing breeze. It was athunderous, unnatural heat which sapped every scrap of vitality, andmade every movement a dread.
Claire was horrified at the effect of this heat wave on Sophie Blake.In superficial fashion she had always believed that rheumatism must bebetter in hot weather; but, according to the specialist, such heat asthis was more trying than damp or cold, and Sophie's stiffness increasedwith alarming suddenness.
There came a day when by no effort of will could she get through herclasses, when sheer necessity drove her to do the thing she had dreadedmost of all--inform the Head that she could not go on with her work.
Miss Farnborough was seated in her private room, and listened with graveattention to what the Games mistress had to say. Her forehead puckeredin surprise as she noted Sophie's halting ga
it, and the while shelistened, her keen brain was diving back into the past, collectingimpressions. She had seen less than usual of Miss Blake during theterm; once or twice she had received the impression that Miss Blakeavoided her approach; Miss Blake had been looking pale. She waiteduntil Sophie had finished speaking, her hands folded on her knee, herpenetrating eye fixed on the girl's face. Then she spoke--
"I am sorry to hear this, Miss Blake. Your work has been excellenthitherto, but rheumatism is a serious handicap. You say that this heatis responsible for the present attack? Am I to understand that it is afirst attack--that you have had no threatening before?"
"I have been rheumatic all winter, more or less. Before the Easterholidays it was pretty bad. I began to feel stiff."
Miss Farnborough repeated the word gravely.
"Stiff! That was bad; that was very bad! How could you take yourclasses if you were feeling stiff?"
"I managed somehow!" Sophie said.
For a moment she had imagined that the Head Mistress's concern had beenon her account; she believed it no longer when she saw the flash ofindignation which lighted the grey eyes.
"Managed--_somehow_? And you went on in that fashion--you were contentto go on!"
"No. I was not content. I was very far from content. I sufferedhorrible pain. I went to a specialist and paid him two guineas for hisadvice. Since then I have paid twenty pounds for treatment."
On Miss Farnborough's face the disapproval grew more and morepronounced.
"Miss Blake, I am afraid you have not been quite straightforward in thismatter. It appears that you have been ill for months, with an illnesswhich must necessarily have interfered with your work, and this is thefirst time I hear about it. I am Head Mistress of this school; ifanything is wrong with a member of the staff, it is her first duty tocome to me. You tell me now that you have been ill for three months,since before the last holidays, and acknowledge that you can go on nolonger."
"In ten days we break up. I ask you to allow me ten extra days. Theweather is so hot that the girls would be thankful to escape theexercises. By the end of the holidays I hope to be quite better."
"The Easter holidays do not seem to have done you much good," MissFarnborough said cruelly. Then, seeing the girl flush, she added, "Ofcourse you shall have your ten days. I can see that you are unfit forwork, and we must manage without you till the end of the term. I amvery sorry for you, Miss Blake; very sorry, indeed. It is very tryingand upsetting and--and expensive into the bargain. Twenty pounds, didyou say? That is surely a great deal! Have you tried the shillingbottles of gout and rheumatic pills? I have been told they are quiteexcellent. But I must repeat that you have been wrong in not coming tome sooner. As a pure matter of honesty, do you think that you werejustified in continuing to take classes for which you were unfit?"
The tears started to Sophie's eyes; she lowered her lids to hide themfrom sight.
"The girls did not suffer," she said deeply. "I did the suffering!"
Miss Farnborough moved impatiently. She was intensely practical andmatter-of-fact, and with all her heart hated any approach to sentiment.
"You suffered _because_ you were unfit," she repeated coldly, "and yourobvious duty was to come to me. You must have known that under thecircumstances I should not have wished you to continue the classes!"
Sophie was silent for a moment, then she said very quietly, verydeliberately--
"Yes, I did know; but I also knew that if I could nerve myself to bearthe pain and the fatigue, I _could_ train the girls as well as ever, andI knew, too, that if you sent me away in the middle of term you would beless likely to take me back. It means everything to me, you see. Whatwould happen to me if I were permanently invalided--without a pension--at thirty-one?"
"You have been paid a good salary, Miss Blake--an exceptionally goodsalary--because it is realised that your work is especially wearing.You ought to have saved--"
"If I had had no home claims I might have been able to save one or twohundred pounds--not a very big life provision! As it happens, however,I have given thirty pounds a year towards the education of a youngsister, and it has been impossible to save at all."
"But now, of course, your sister will help _you_," Miss Farnboroughsaid, and turned briskly to another topic. "You said that you have beento a specialist? Will you give me his address? I should like tocommunicate with him direct. You understand, Miss Blake, that if thisstiffness continues, it will be impossible for you to continue yourduties here?"
"Quite impossible," faltered Sophie, in low tones.
Miss Farnborough pushed back her chair, and rose to her feet.
"But one hopes, of course, that all may go well. I have never had anycomplaint to make with respect to your work. You have been verysuccessful, very popular with the girls. I should be sorry to lose you.Be sure to let me know how you go on. Perhaps I had better be guidedby Dr Blank. I should try the pills, I think; they are worth trying.And avoid the sea; sea air is bad for rheumatism. Try some high inlandplace. We had better say good-bye, now, I suppose, as you will not comeback after to-night. Good-bye, my dear. Let me hear soon. All goodwishes for your recovery."
Sophie left the room, and made her way upstairs to the Staff-Room. Shemoved very slowly, partly because every movement was an effort, partlybecause the familiar objects on which her eyes rested became suddenlyinstinct with new interest. For ten long working years she had passedthem daily with indifference, but this afternoon it was borne in uponher that she would never see them again, and the conviction brought withit a bitter pang. After all, they had been happy years, spent in abustle of youthful life and energy, in an atmosphere of affection, too,for the girls were warm-hearted, and the "Gym. mistress" had beenuniversally popular. Even as the thought passed through Sophie's mind,one of her special adorers appeared suddenly at the far end of thecorridor and hurried forward to meet her.
"Miss Blake! Darling! You look so white. Are you faint? Take my arm;lean on me. Were you going to lie down?"
"I'm going to the Staff-Room. I can manage myself; but, Gladys, findMiss Gifford, and ask her to come to me as soon as she is free. Tellher I'm not well. You're a dear girl, Gladys. Thank you for being sokind to me all these years."
Gladys rolled adoring blue eyes, and sped on her mission. The nextmorning she realised that those thanks had been darling Miss Blake'sfarewell, and shed bitter tears; but for the moment she was filled withcomplaisance.
Claire appeared in due time, heard what had happened, and helped Sophieto collect her various small belongings. The other teachers had alreadydispersed, so the ordeal of leave-taking was avoided.
"You can explain when you meet them next term!" said Claire.
"I can write my good-byes," corrected Sophie. She blinked away a fewtears and said piteously, "Not much chance for me if she consults DrBlank! He's as much discouraged as I am myself. What do you suppose hewill advise now? I suppose I'll have to see him to-morrow."
"And lie awake all to-night, wondering what he will say! We'll dobetter than that--we'll call this very afternoon. If he is in, I'm surehe will see us, and a day saved is a day gained. I'll get a taxi."
"Another taxi! I'm ruining you, Claire. How I do hate sponging onother people!"
"Wouldn't you do it for me, if things were reversed?"
"Of course I should, but it's so much more agreeable to help than to behelped. It's ignoble, I suppose, but I do hate to feel grateful!"
"Well! No one could by any possibility call you _gracious_, my dear.Is that any consolation?" cried Claire mischievously, and Sophie wassurprised into the travesty of a smile.
Dr Blank was at home, and listened to what Sophie had to tell him withgrave attention. He expressed satisfaction to hear that her holidayshad begun, but when questioned as to his probable report to MissFarnborough, had no consolation to offer.
"I am afraid I must tell you honestly that you are not fit for the work.Of course, it is
quite possible that there may be a great improvementby September, but, even so, you would be retarding your recovery bygoing on with such exhausting work. You must try to find somethinglighter."
Sophie laughed, and her laugh was not good to hear.
Claire said firmly--
"She _shall_ find it! I will find it for her. There's no need to worryabout September. What we want to know is what she is to do _now_?--to-morrow--for the rest of the holidays?"
"I can't afford any more injections! They've done me no good, and theycost too much. I can't afford any more treatments. I can only takemedicines. If you will give me some medicines--"
Dr Blank sat silent; tapping his desk with noiseless fingers; staringthoughtfully across the room. It was evident that he had a propositionto make; evident also that he doubted its reception.
"The best thing under the circumstances--the wisest thing," he saidslowly at last, "would be for you to go into hospital as an ordinarypatient. I could get you a bed in one of my own wards, where I couldlook after you myself, in consultation with the first men in town. Youcould have massage, electricity, radium, heat baths, every appliancethat could possibly be of use, and you could stay on long enough to givethem a chance. It would be an ordinary ward, remember, an ordinary bedin an ordinary ward, and your neighbours would not be up to Newnhamstandard! You would be awakened at five in the morning, and settled forthe night at eight. You would have to obey rules, which would seem toyou unnecessary and tiresome. You would be, I am afraid, profoundlybored. On the other hand, you would have every attention that skill andscience can devise. You would not have to pay a penny, and you wouldhave a better chance than a duchess in a ducal palace. Think it over,and let me know! If you decide to go, I'll manage the rest. Take aday--a couple of days."
"I won't take two minutes, thank you! I'll decide now. I'll go, ofcourse, and thank you very much!"
Dr Blank beamed with satisfaction.
"Sensible girl! Sensible girl! That's right! That's right! That'svery good! You are doing the right thing, and we'll all do our best foryou, and your friend here will come to see you and help to make the timepass. Interesting study, you know; valuable opportunity of studyingcharacter if you look at it in that light! Why not turn it intoliterary capital? `Sketches from a Hospital Bed,' `My Neighbours in BWard,' might make an uncommonly good series. Who knows? We may haveyou turning out quite a literary star!"
Sophie smiled faintly, being one of the people who would rather walkfive miles than write the shortest letter. Many unexpected thingshappen in this world, but it was certain that her own rise to literaryeminence would never swell the number! But she knew that Dr Blank wastrying to cheer her, so she kept that certainty to herself.
The two girls made their way back to Sophie's lodgings, and discussedthe situation over the ever-comforting tea.
"I shall have to give my landlady notice," Sophie said, lookingwistfully round the little room which had been so truly a home. "If I'mto be in hospital for many weeks, it's folly to go on paying the rent;and in any case I can't afford so much now. One can't have doctor'sbills, and other luxuries as well. What shall I have to take intohospital? Will they allow me to wear my own things? I don't think I_could_ get better in a calico night-dress! Pretty frills and a blueribbon bow are as good as a tonic, but will the authorities permit?Have you ever seen ribbon bows in a hospital bed?"
"I haven't had much experience, but I should think they would beencouraged, as a ward decoration! I hope so, I'm sure, for I mean topresent you with a duck of a dressing-jacket!"
"Oh, nothing more, Claire; don't give me anything more. I shall neverbe able to pay you back," cried Sophie; then, in a voice of poignantsuffering, she cried sharply, "Oh, Claire, my little sister! _What_ isto become of my little sister? If I am not able to help, if I need tobe helped myself, her education will be interrupted, for it will beimpossible to go on paying. Oh, it's too hard--too dreadful!Everything seems so hopeless and black!"
"Yes, it does. The way seems blocked. One can't see a step ahead._Man's extremity_, Sophie!" cried Claire deeply--"_Man's extremity_;"and at that a gleam of light came into Sophie's eyes.
"Yes, yes! That's just what it is. Thanks for reminding me. _God'sopportunity_!" Sophie leant back in her chair, staring dreamily intospace, till presently something of the old bright look came back to herface. "And that," she said softly, "that's the kind of help it is sweetto accept!"
The Independence of Claire Page 17