CHAPTER XII
St. Kolgan's Abbey
"After what happened on Latchfield Moors," remarked Vivian Holmes, oneafternoon about a week later, "I think it is extremely good of MissMaitland to allow Honor Fitzgerald and Lettice Talbot to go to thepicnic to-morrow. I shouldn't have been in the least surprised if shehad left them both out, and I should certainly have said it served themright."
Vivian was at an age when stern justice appears more attractive thanmercy. She kept rules rigidly herself, and had scant patience withthose who did not, serving out retribution in her capacity of monitresswith an unsparing hand. She was perhaps too hard on prodigals, but herinfluence and authority undoubtedly did much to maintain the highstandard of St. Chad's; and if she were not altogether popular, shewas, at any rate, greatly respected.
Honor's last delinquency had placed her more than ever on Vivian's badlist. The monitress considered that it completely cancelled the bathingepisode, and regarded "that wild Irish girl" as the black sheep of thehouse, ready to lead astray such innocent lambs as Lettice Talbot whowere impressionable enough to be influenced by her example. MissMaitland, though grieved at such a relapse from the marked improvementthat Honor had shown, was fortunately a better judge of character. Sheknew that old habits are not overcome all at once, and that it takesmany stumblings and fallings and risings again before any human soulcan struggle uphill. She did not want Honor to be discouraged, andhoped that if the girl felt herself trusted she would make an effort tobe more worthy of confidence.
"I put you on your parole," she said to her. "It would be impossiblefor me to take you to Baldurstone if I imagined you were capable of arepetition of what occurred last week. I think, however, that I needfeel no anxiety on that score."
"I promise faithfully," said Honor, and she meant it.
Vivian's opinions largely led popular feeling, and as Honor did nothold a high place in her estimation, the other Chaddites also, inconsequence of the affair on the moors, slightly ostracized "Paddy",letting her understand that they did not altogether approve of her.Lettice Talbot suffered a severe snubbing from her elder sister, inaddition to Miss Maitland's censure.
"It was such shockingly bad form!" declared Maisie. "Why, you mighthave been two little Sunday-school children, running away from yourteacher to buy common sweets at a small village shop! I'm utterlyashamed of you. We don't do such things at Chessington. No wonder MissMaitland was amazed and disgusted. Yes, I know Honor Fitzgerald islistening; I'm very glad, because she'll hear what I think of your fineadventure."
Honor undoubtedly felt much crestfallen to find that what she hadregarded as spirited independence was labelled "bad form" at theCollege. On reflection it struck her that, apart from all rules, it hadperhaps been scarcely polite to rush away, in direct opposition to theexpressed wishes of one who had been taking so much trouble to maketheir walk interesting. In common with all the Chaddites, she keenlyappreciated both Miss Maitland's personality and her knowledge ofnature lore, and had enjoyed the expedition on the hills immensely.
To be left out of the picnic would have been a bitter disappointment.It was the great event of the summer term. Each house took itsexcursion on a separate day, as Miss Cavendish considered that thewhole school made too formidable an invasion for any place. St.Hilary's and St. Aldwyth's had already respectively visited WeylandCastle and Eccleston Woods, and it was now the turn of St. Chad's tochoose a destination. Miss Maitland had made a list of severalinteresting spots, which were well worth seeing, and had put the matterto a general ballot, with the result that by a majority of eight thevotes fell in favour of St. Kolgan's Abbey at Baldurstone.
"It's the nicest of all, and Miss Maitland's favourite," announcedLettice.
"I chose it for three reasons," said Honor: "first, because it's thefarthest off, and I like to have a long journey; secondly, becausewe're to go most of the way by steamer, and I love being on the sea;and thirdly, because Flossie Taylor wanted Haselmere Hall."
"What a very intelligent and desirable motive!" sneered Vivian Holmes,who happened to overhear. "You evidently go on the principle of pigphilosophy. As a matter of fact, Miss Maitland said she had nopreference."
"I was speaking to Lettice," retorted Honor. "I suppose my motives aremy own business?"
"Oh, certainly! They're not of the slightest interest to me."
"Vivian's rather snappy this evening," whispered Lettice, as themonitress stalked away. "I believe she voted for Haselmere herself."
"Then I'm doubly glad it's to be Baldurstone. Even if people aremonitresses, they've no need to think it's their mission to squasheverybody else perpetually. I can hardly make the least remark withoutVivian sitting upon me."
"You always answer her back, you see, and she thinks that's cheek in anew girl."
"I'm not new now."
"Yes, you are--you're not through your first term yet. Vivian says ittakes a whole year to become a full-blown Chaddite, and until you'vethoroughly assimilated Chessington ideas you oughtn't to presume to airoutside opinions."
"What bosh!"
"No, it's not bosh. You see, we all think that Chessington is the onlygirls' school in England, and that St. Chad's is the one house atChessington. One must keep up the traditions of the place, and itwouldn't do to let every fresh comer take the lead. You'll have toknuckle under, Paddy, and eat humble pie. Vivian has been here for fiveyears--she's simply a 'Chaddite of the Chaddites'. That's why she waschosen monitress. You'll have your chance when you get to the SixthForm."
"Shall I ever climb so high up in the school? If I were head of thehouse, though, I'd be rather less hard on new arrivals."
"Oh, no, you wouldn't! By the time you've gone through the millyourself you'll want to grind everybody else. There's an attractionabout the St. Chad's code; you'll like it better when you're more usedto it, and when you've forgotten any pettifogging notions you may havebrought from anywhere else."
"You're outspoken, at any rate!"
"Certainly! I believe in plain, unvarnished truths."
Honor had already discovered that fact, and also the further one thatwhatever a girl's position might be at home, it made no difference toher standing at the College, where each was judged solely and entirelyon her own merits. She had once unfortunately alluded with a touch ofpride to her family pedigree, but she rued her mistake in a moment, forVivian, with uplifted eyebrows, had enquired in a tone of cuttingcontempt: "Who are the Fitzgeralds?"
A large public school is indeed a vast democracy, and members areestimated only by the value they prove themselves to be to thecommonweal: their private possessions and affairs matter little to thegeneral community, but their examination successes, cricket scores, ortennis championships are of vital importance. All, to use an oldphrase, must find their own level, and establish a record forthemselves apart from home belongings. Honor was beginning to realizethat among two hundred girls she was a mere unit, and that her opinionsand prejudices counted as nothing against the enormous weight ofuniversal custom. It was quite a new aspect of life, so new that shewas not sure whether she liked or disliked it; although, if she hadbeen given her choice of remaining at the College or returning to theold, slipshod, do-as-you-please regime of her schoolroom at Kilmore,she would have decided most emphatically, despite strict rules,scoldings, snubs, and unwelcome truths, in favour of Chessington.
Nobody wished to lie in bed on the morning of the picnic; even Honor,to whom early rising was still one of the greatest banes of existence,actually woke up before the bell rang, and had the triumph of rousingher sleeping companion, a reversal of the customary order of thingsthat afforded her much satisfaction.
"It's delightful to think that St. Chad's is going off for a jaunt,while all the other houses will have lessons just as usual," sheremarked. "I'm sure I shall enjoy it twice as much when I think ofChristina Stanton and Mary Nicholls toiling through equations andphysics."
"It will be their turn to chuckle next week, when St. Bride's has itsholiday," said Jani
e. "You'll feel rather blue then."
"No, I shan't--not if we've had our fun first. I shall turnphilosophical, and say: 'You can't eat your cake and have it', and'Every dog has his day', or any other little platitude I can think of.In the meantime, it's our day, and I'm glad to see it's a particularlyfine one."
At precisely nine o'clock, just when the rest of the Chessingtonianswere filing into classes, the Chaddites were assembled in thequadrangle, and at a signal from Miss Maitland started off, two andtwo, to walk to Dunscar, where they were to catch the steamer toAvonmouth, the nearest point for Baldurstone. Everything seemeddelightful--the brisk march in the fresh morning air, the brightsunshine, the glinting, sparkling sea, the foam churned up by thesteamer's revolving screw, the cries of the seagulls, and the steadymotion of the vessel as she headed out of the bay. The breeze in theChannel was exhilarating, and so cool as to make the girls appreciateMiss Maitland's wisdom in having insisted upon all bringing wraps.
"I thought it seemed as foolish as carrying one's winter fur and muffon a broiling day like this," commented Lettice, "but I really think Ishould have been cold without my coat. It's marvellous what an enormousdifference there is when you get well away from land."
Lunch was taken on the steamer, and they did not arrive at Avonmouthuntil half-past one. They were landed in small boats, for there was nopier, and vessels of any considerable size could not cross the harbourbar. Miss Maitland counted up her forty pupils as they stood on thejetty--a precaution that seemed more of a formality than a necessity,as everyone had taken good care not to be left behind.
"We have exactly three and a half hours here," she said. "The steamerwill be back at five o'clock. That gives us plenty of time to walk tothe Abbey, and enjoy the ruins. I have ordered tea to be ready for usas soon as we return on board. We shall be very hungry by then, I'mafraid, but there is nowhere to buy refreshments in this tiny place."
Avonmouth was, indeed, only a little fishing village, composed of anirregular row of cottages, huddled together on the beach, and a small,not-too-clean inn, which looked as if it would be quite incapable ofproviding even seats for a party of forty-three, to say nothing of cupsand saucers.
"We're such an army!" said Vivian. "If we were to have tea here weshould clear the whole place of provisions. I don't suppose there'd beenough milk and bread and butter to go round."
"Couldn't they have been ordered beforehand?" asked Lettice, who had aleaning towards picnic meals. "We might have sat on the grass outsidethe inn."
"Yes, no doubt. But suppose the day had been wet and we hadn't come,then all the things would have been wasted. A steamer is generallyprepared to cater for any number of people."
St. Kolgan's Abbey stood about two miles from the village, on aheadland overlooking the sea. It was a steady toil uphill the wholeway, but the glorious view at the top was ample reward for the hotclimb between high walls. The beautiful old ruin faced the Channel, andcommanded a wide prospect of blue waves, flecked here and there withlittle, foamy crests.
"I wonder if that's the coast of Ireland, on the other side?" remarkedHonor, shading her eyes with her hand to gaze over the dancing water.
"I'm afraid the wish is father to the thought," said Ruth Latimer. "Idon't honestly see anything that can possibly be construed into adistant coast line, and I've about as long sight as anybody in theschool. Don't you want to come and listen to Miss Maitland? She's goingto tell us a story about St. Kolgan, who founded this place."
Honor followed to the corner of the fallen transept, where MissMaitland was installed on a fragment of broken column. The girls, invarious attitudes of comfort, had flung themselves on the grass withinearshot, prepared to listen lazily while revelling in the calm,tranquil beauty and the old-world atmosphere of the scene. It seemed sopeaceful, so far removed from the bustle and noise of our hurrying,pushing age, that they could almost throw their minds back through thecenturies, and imagine they heard the vesper bell tolling from thetower overhead, and the slow footfalls of the monks pacing round thecloister to those carved seats in the choir of which the very remainswere so exquisite.
"Yes, Baldurstone is a wonderful spot," began Miss Maitland. "I don'tbelieve any place in the neighbourhood has older traditions. St. Kolganwas a British saint, and his legend has come down to us from the veryearliest times. You know that there was a thriving and orthodox CelticChurch in Britain long before St. Augustine's 'introduction' ofChristianity--a Church that was so important and vigorous that itcontributed three bishops to the Council of Arles in A.D. 314, andseveral to the Council of Nicaea in 325, thus showing that it formeda part of united Christendom. It sent missionaries both to Ireland,where St. Patrick preached the Faith, and to Scotland, where St. Ninianspread Christian teaching in the north. Then came the invasion of theheathen Norsemen, the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes of history, who burntand plundered every sanctuary they could find, slaying the priests atthe altars, destroying both prelates and people, and forcing theBritons to take refuge in the woods and mountains. Though drivenwestward, the Celtic Church did not perish, and every now and then somedevoted monk would try to establish himself among the worshippers ofThor and Odin. Such a mission was extremely dangerous, for so intensewas the hatred of the pagan conquerors for the religion of the NewTestament that it was almost impossible for a Christian teacher to showhimself among them and live.
"At about the beginning of the seventh century, when the Saxons hadspread so far westward as Dunscar and Avonmouth, and were practicallymasters of all the country round, a monk called Kolgan came over fromIreland with a little band of brethren, and prevailed upon Osric, thechief, or 'under king', of the district, to allow him to settle atBaldurstone. Those Celtic pioneers built a small monastery, and workedvery earnestly among the people, some of whom they persuaded to becomeadherents of the Cross. Osric, though a pagan himself, tolerated themfor the sake of his British wife, Toura, and for a while they wentunmolested. When Osric died, however, the chiefdom fell to Wulfbert, afierce warrior, who was determined to annihilate by fire and bloodshedany faith that had taken root among his subjects. In daily peril oftheir lives, Kolgan and his monks stayed on, knowing that if theydeserted their post the last light of Christianity in the districtwould flicker out. One day a cowherd, who had been cured of a dangerouswound at the little settlement, came running to warn the brethren thatWulfbert and a band of armed men were advancing against them; and hebesought them at once to flee into the woods. Kolgan marshalled histrembling companions, and, giving them the altar vessels to carry intoa place of safety, sent them straightway to seek refuge in the vastforest that stretched ever northward and westward beyond the dominionof the Saxons.
"He himself was determined to remain. He knew that many of those whowere coming with Wulfbert had, in Osric's time, been converts, eitheropenly or secretly, of the Church; and he hoped, even at the eleventhhour, that he might recall their lost allegiance. Alone, with a crossuplifted in his hand, he stood at the door of the monastery to meet theNorsemen. The fierce band paused in amazement at the sight of histemerity; it was something those savage men had not known before. Theswift rush through the battlefield of the warrior who hoped byslaughter to gain Valhalla, they could understand; but this calmcourage in the face of death was beyond their experience. Kolgan seizedthe opportunity of the moment's respite to appeal to them in the nameof the Trinity, and thundered out a denunciation against those whoforsook the Faith. A few trembled, but Wulfbert, rallying his ranks,cried: 'Cowards! Are ye afraid of the empty words of an unarmedpriest?' and rushing forward, he struck the first blow with hisbattle-axe.
"Kolgan fell where he stood, the little settlement was plundered andravaged, and for the time it seemed as though his work had been of noavail. But brighter days were in store for the Church; slowly andgradually Christianity had begun to spread, not only from Celtic, butfrom Saxon sources, and before many years were past Wulfbert himselfhad accepted baptism. The monastery was by his special desire rebuiltin honour of St. Kolgan, and became afterward
s one of the greatestcentres of learning in the west country. For nine hundred years itflourished, till at last it was suppressed in the reign of Henry VIII,and the buildings, untended and neglected, fell into the state that wesee now."
"And is this actually the place built by Wulfbert?" asked Ruth Latimer.
"Oh, no! That must have been a very rude and primitive erection;probably it had wattled walls, and a thatched roof. The Abbey wasreconstructed more than once, and the present ruins are the remains offourteenth-century work."
"What a shame that it should have been destroyed!" said DorothyArkwright.
"Yes and no. One much regrets the ruin of so lovely a place, but themonks had grown idle and self-indulgent, and were as different from thefounders of their order as could well be imagined. The old,self-sacrificing spirit had passed away; and the days were gone, too,when the monastery had stood as the sole centre of light in a dark age,at once the substitute for school, college, hospital, and alms-house,as well as the home of painting, literature, music, and all the refinedarts. When any custom or institution, however beautiful, becomeseffete, the ruthless hand of progress sweeps it away, and supplants itwith something else, leaving us only ivy-covered ruins to show us whatour forefathers loved and valued."
"How grand St. Kolgan was!" said Vivian. "I think it was simplysplendid the way he stood at the door and braved the Saxons!"
"Yes; but to me the truest part of his heroism was not his death, buthis life. It needed far greater self-denial and true courage to spendeach day in trying to teach a wild and hostile people, making long andfatiguing journeys, and suffering the loss of every joy that earthcould offer him, than it did to summon up the supreme spirit to meetmartyrdom. It is just the same in most of our lives," continued MissMaitland, with a glance in Honor's direction; "it takes more real andstrenuous effort to do plain, ordinary things, obeying rules andkeeping our tempers, than one occasional very brave thing; and, thoughI would not for a moment depreciate the latter, I think that in theaggregate the others are of greater importance. Anybody, however, whocan do a courageous deed is capable of living up to it every day, andthus rising to a still higher level. We must consider ourselves asfailures unless we are trying to develop the very best that is in us."
When Miss Maitland and the girls had dispersed to explore the ruinsmore thoroughly, Honor lay still on the grass, gazing hard at the wide,shining expanse of sea. Janie stayed too, and sat abstractedly pluckingdaisy-heads and pulling them to pieces, or crumbling little pieces ofmortar from the wall. For a long time neither spoke.
"I believe Miss Maitland was having a shot at me," said Honor at last;"only, I don't understand exactly what she meant."
"I do," returned Janie. "She thinks that you're capable of very muchmore than ordinary people."
"I can't imagine why!"
"Because it's in you. You've brains, and pluck, and 'go', and all kindsof things that other folks haven't. You might do such a splendid amountin the world some day!"
"I, my dear girl!" cried Honor in amazement. "Why, I'm sure I'm not upto much!"
"You could be, if you tried."
"There are some things that aren't possible, however hard one tries. Ican no more be really and truly good than you could win the Atalantarace at the sports!"
The colour flushed into Janie's thin cheeks. Her lack of physicalprowess was sometimes rather a sore subject to her. Though she did notenjoy games, she would, nevertheless, have dearly liked the credit ofexcelling in them. For a moment or two she did not reply. She wasconsidering hard, and making up her mind on a difficult point. When shespoke, it was with a touch of diffidence and hesitation in her voice.
"Suppose I could win the 'Atalanta', would you think it possible to bewhat Miss Maitland wants you?"
"Indeed, I'd think anything possible!" replied Honor, with more truththan politeness.
"Then shall we make it a bargain--if I win the race, you're going totry your very hardest?"
"Turn over a new leaf, in fact?"
"Yes."
"All right; I've no objection. I should like to see you flying roundthe quad!"
"And I should like to see you doing other things! Will you promise,then?"
"On my honour, if you want."
"Very well. Give me something as a pledge."
"You can have this small compass," said Honor, rummaging in her pocket."It's rather a treasure. Brian brought it me from Switzerland, and it'smade of agate."
"All the better, because you'll want to have it back. I'll give you mysilver fruit-knife, which I'm equally loath to part with. We must eachkeep each other's token until after the sports."
"And then?"
"Ah! that remains to be seen," said Janie, as she rose and strolledleisurely away.
All the Chaddites agreed that the visit to Baldurstone was one of themost interesting excursions they had ever taken, and that the ruinswere the most picturesque in the neighbourhood, far exceeding WeylandCastle, favoured by the Hilaryites; and Clayton House, the destinationof St. Bride's. The memory of their delightful day was sufficient tocarry them through the ordeal of recapitulation that always precededthe examinations, necessitating an extra half-hour of preparation inthe evenings, and, as Lettice described it, "concentrating one'sunfortunate brains to absolute splitting point".
Whether Lettice's mental exertions were sufficient to bring her to suchan unhappy crisis was a question on which her class mistress might haveexpressed some doubt, though she herself thought she had proofconclusive one afternoon during the week following the picnic. She ranin from the grounds in quite a state of excitement, and hailed a groupof friends assembled in the recreation room.
"Girls!" she exclaimed, "I've seen a vision, a most extraordinary andpeculiar sight! You wouldn't believe what it was! I happened to be atthe bottom of the garden, and in that quiet path behind the laundry Iactually saw Janie Henderson tearing up and down, as if she were doingthe last spurt of a Marathon."
"Janie Henderson! Impossible!" cried everybody.
"Just what I said. I rubbed my eyes, and came to the conclusion thatI'd been overstudying, and must be suffering from a delusion. Do I lookqueer?"
"Not in the least; your cheeks are as red as peonies."
"Well, my eyesight must be defective, then, for I certainly thought Isaw her."
"You've been dreaming!"
"It's about as likely as seeing Miss Cavendish performing with askipping rope."
"Yes, it's absurd on the face of it. It must have been somebody else."
"A case of mistaken identity."
"There are heaps of girls the same height, and with long, light hair."
"No doubt. I was a fairly good distance off too. And yet," addedLettice to herself, as she went to change her cricket shoes, "I verilybelieve it was Janie Henderson, after all!"