CHAPTER THREE.
MRS. GIFFORD IS MARRIED.
Claire lost no time in writing to Miss Farnborough to apply for the postof French mistress if it were still vacant, and by return of postreceived a cordial reply. Several applications had been received, butno appointment had been made, and the Head was pleased to confirm herprevious offer of a commencing salary of a hundred and ten pounds, andwould expect Miss Gifford to take up her duties at the beginning of theautumn term. She congratulated her on her decision, and felt sure shewould never regret devoting her life to so interesting and valuable awork, instead of being content to waste it in the pursuit of idlepleasure.
Poor Claire looked a little dubious as she read those last words. Thepursuit of pleasure does not as a rule begin to pall at twenty-one; andthe old life looked very sweet and pleasant viewed from the newstandpoint of change. She put on a bright face, however, and sternlyrepressed all signs of depression in discussing the matter with hermother and Mr Judge. Her determination evoked the expected opposition,but slowly and surely the opposition decreased, and her arguments werelistened to with increasing respect. The lovers were sincerely desirousof securing the girl's happiness, but middle-aged though they were, theywere deeply in love, and felt a natural desire to begin their marriedlife without the presence of a third person, however dear that personmight be.
Mr Judge applauded Claire's spirit, and prophesied her rapid success asa teacher. Mrs Gifford murmured sweetly, "And if you _don't_ like it,dear, you can always come out by the next boat. Try it for a year. Itwill be quite an amusing experience to live the life of a bachelor girl.And, of course, in a year or two we'll be coming home. Then you mustspend the whole leave with us. We'll see, won't we? We won't make anyplans, but just be guided by circumstances. If you want somewhere to goin the holidays, there's my old Aunt Mary in Preston, but you'd be boredto sobs, darling. No doubt Miss Farnborough will introduce you to lotsof nice people in London, and you will have all the fifteen othermistresses to take you about. I expect you'll be quite gay! ...Claire, darling, _would_ you have gold tissue under this ninon, or justa handsome lace?"
For the next few weeks things moved quickly. In answer to inquiriesabout lodgings, Miss Farnborough wrote a second time to say that MissRhodes, the English mistress, had comfortable rooms which she wassharing with the present French teacher. She was willing to continuethe arrangement, and, as a stranger in town, Claire would doubtless findit agreeable as well as economical. The letter was entirely business-like and formal, and, as such, a trifle chilling to Claire, for MissFarnborough had been so warm in her spoken invitation that Claire hadexpected a more cordial welcome. Could it be that the shadow ofofficialdom was already making itself felt?
The next few weeks were given up to trousseau-hunting and farewellvisits, and no girl could have shown a livelier interest in theselection of pretty things than did this bride of thirty-nine. Clairecame in for a charming costume to wear at the wedding, and for the rest,what fitted her mother fitted herself, and as Mrs Gifford said sweetly,"It would be a sin to waste all my nice things, but they're quiteunsuitable for India. Just use them out, darling, for a month or two,and then get what you need," an arrangement which seemed sensibleenough, if one could only be sure of money to supply that need when itarose!
The day before her marriage Mrs Gifford thrust an envelope into herdaughter's hand, blushing the while with an expression of real distress.
"I'm so sorry, darling, that it's so little. I've tried to be careful,but the money has flown. Going out to India one needs so many clothes,and there were quite a number of bills. I'll send more by and by, andremember always to say if you run short. I want you to have plenty forall you need. With what you have, this will see you nicely through yourfirst term, and after that you'll be quite rich."
Claire kissed her, and was careful not to look at the cheque until shewas alone. She had counted on at least a hundred to put in the bank asa refuge against a rainy day. Surely at this parting of the ways motherwould wish her to have this security; but when she looked at her cheque,it was to discover that it was made out for fifty pounds--only half thatsum. Claire felt sore at that moment, and for the first time a chill offear entered into her anticipations. Fifty pounds seemed a dreadfullysmall sum to stand between herself and want. A hundred might be onlytwice its value, but its three figures sounded so much more substantial.She struggled hard to allow no signs of resentment to be seen, and feltthat virtue was rewarded, when late that evening Mr Judge presented herwith yet another envelope, saying awkwardly--
"That's--er--that's the bridesmaid's present. Thought you'd like tochoose for yourself. Something to do, you know, some fine half-holiday,to go out and look in the shops. I've no views--don't get jewelleryunless you wish. Just--er--`blew it' your own way!"
Claire kissed him, and remarked that he was a sweet old dear; and thistime the opening of the envelope brought a surprise of an agreeablenature, for this cheque also was for fifty pounds, so that the desiredhundred was really in her possession. No jewellery for her! Into thebank the money should go--every penny of it, and her bridesmaid presentshould be represented by peace of mind, which, after the financial shockof the last month, seemed more precious than many rubies.
Mr and Mrs Judge were married at the Embassy, and afterwards at anEnglish church, the bride looking her most charming self in a costume ofdiaphanous chiffon and lace and the most fascinating of French hats, andthe bridegroom his worst in his stiff conventional garments. They werea very radiant couple, however, and the _dejeuner_ held after theceremony at the "Hotel Britannique" was a cheerful occasion, despite theparting which lay ahead.
The gathering was quite a large one, for Mr Judge had insisted uponinviting all the friends who had been kind to his _fiancee_ and herdaughter during their three years' sojourn in the city, while the_pensionnaires_ at "Villa Beau Sejour" came _en masse_, headed by Madameherself, in a new black silk costume, her white transformationelaborately waved and curled for the occasion.
There were speeches, and there were toasts. There were kindly words offarewell and cheerful anticipations of future meetings, there were goodwishes for the bride and bridegroom, and more good wishes for thebridesmaid, and many protestations that it was "her turn next."
Then the bride retired to change her dress. Claire went with her, andtried valiantly not to cry as she fastened buttons and hooks, andrealised how long it might be before she next waited on her mother.Mrs Judge was tearful, too, and the two knew a bitter moment as theyclung together for the real farewell before rejoining the guests.
"I've been careless; I've made a mess of things. I've not been half asthoughtful as I should have been," sobbed the bride, "but I _have_ lovedyou, Claire, and this will make no difference! I shall love you justthe same."
Claire flushed and nodded, but could not trust herself to speak. Thelove of a mother in far-off India could never be the same as the love ofthe dear companion of every day. But she was too generous to add to hermother's distress by refusing to be comforted, and the bride nervouslypowdered her eyes, and re-arranged her veil before descending to thehall, anxious as ever to shelve a painful subject, and turn her face tothe sun.
Five minutes later Mr and Mrs Judge drove away from the door, and thegirl who was left behind turned slowly to re-enter the hotel. It wasvery big, and fine, and spacious, but at that moment it was a type ofdesolation in Claire's eyes. With a sickening wave of loneliness sherealised that she was motherless and alone!