CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
FAILED!
First Class, Second Class, and still no sign of the familiar number.Third Class--it was not there! Rhoda gave a little gulp, and beganagain from the very beginning. She had been too quick, too eager. Itwas so easy to miss a number. One by one she conned them over, but itwas not there. The long Pass List lay below, and she looked at it withdreary indifference. To scramble through with the rabble was a sorryattainment, or it seemed so for one moment, but at the next it became,suddenly, a wild, impossible dream, for--the number was not there! Nofear of overlooking this time, for the figures stood out as if printedin fire, and burned themselves into her brain. The number was not inthe First Class, nor the Second, nor the Third; it was not in the PassList, it was not mentioned at all.
If she had ever permitted herself to anticipate such a situation, whichshe had not, Rhoda would have pictured herself flying into a paroxysm ofdespair; but in reality she felt icy cold, and it was in a tone almostof indifference that she announced:
"I am plucked! I have not passed at all."
"Never mind, dear; you did your best, and the work matters more than theresult. Very uncertain tests, these examinations--I never cared aboutthem," said her father kindly, and Mrs Chester smiled in her usualplacid fashion, and murmured, "Oh, I expect it's a mistake. It's soeasy to make a mistake in printing figures. You will find it is allright, darling, later on. Have some jam!"
They were absolutely placid; absolutely calm; absolutely unconscious ofthe storm of emotion raging beneath that quiet exterior; but Haroldglanced at his sister with the handsome eyes which looked so sleepy, butwhich were in reality so remarkably wide-awake, and said slowly:
"I think Rhoda has finished, mother. You don't want any jam, do you,Ro? Come into the garden with me instead. I want a stroll."
He walked out through the French window, and Rhoda followed with muchthe same feeling of relief as that with which a captive escapes from theprison which seems to be on the point of suffocating him, mentally andphysically. Brother and sister paced in silence down the path leadingto the rose garden. Harold was full of sympathy, but, man-like, foundit difficult to put his thoughts into words, and Rhoda, after all, wasthe first to speak. She stopped suddenly in the middle of the path, andconfronted him with shining eyes. Her voice sounded strange in her ownears.
"Harold, I--have--failed! I am plucked. I have not passed at all--noteven a common pass."
"No? I'm uncommonly sorry, but--"
"But do you realise it; do you understand what it means? I _think_ Ido, but I don't. If I did, I should not be here talking quietly to you.I should go mad! I should want to kill myself. I should bedesperate!"
"Don't be silly now, Ro. It's a big disappointment, and I'm sorry foryou, but it's not a bit of use working yourself into hysterics. Facethe thing quietly, and see--"
"All that it means--. It means a good deal, Harold; more than you canunderstand. I think I'd rather be alone, please. You are very kind,but I can't stand consolation just yet. I'll sit in the arbour."
"Just as you please. I don't want to force myself, but I'd like to helpyou, old girl. Is there nothing else I can do?"
"Yes; keep mother away! Don't let her come near me until lunch. I ambest left alone, and she doesn't understand--no one understands exceptthose who have been at school, and know how--how hard--"
The girl's voice trembled, and broke off suddenly, and she walked awayin the direction of the summer-house, while Harold thrust his hands intohis pockets and kicked the pebbles on the gravel path. He was very fondof his impetuous young sister, and the quivering sob which had strangledher last word echoed painfully in his ears. He realised as neitherfather nor mother could do what such a failure meant to a proud,ambitious girl, and how far-reaching would be its consequences. It wasnot to-day nor to-morrow that would exhaust this trouble; the bitterestpart was yet to come when she returned to school, and received thecondolences of her more successful companions; when she sat apart andsaw them receive their reward. Harold longed to be able to help, butthere was nothing to do but persuade his parents to leave the girlalone, and to return at intervals to satisfy himself that she was stillin her retreat, and not attempting to drown her sorrows in the lake.Three times over he paced the path, and saw the white-robed figuresitting immovable, with elbows planted on the table, and falling lockshiding the face from view. So still she sat that he retired silently,hoping that she had fallen asleep, but on the fourth visit he was nolonger alone, but accompanied by a graceful, girlish figure, and theydid not halt until they stood on the very threshold of the arbouritself.
"Rhoda!" he cried, then, "look up! I have brought someone to you.Someone you will be glad to see."
The flaxen mane was tossed back, and a flushed face raised in protest."I don't--" began Rhoda, and then suddenly sprang to her feet andstretched out her arms. "Oh, Evie--Evie! You have come. Oh, I wantedyou--I wanted you so badly!"
Miss Everett stepped forward and drew the girl to her side, and Haroldwaited just long enough to see the fair head and the dark nestletogether, and then took himself off to the house, satisfied that comforthad come at last.
"I have _failed_, Evie!" cried Rhoda, clasping her friend's hands, andstaring at her with the same expression of incredulous horror with whichshe had confronted her brother a couple of hours earlier. "Yes,darling. I know."
"And what are you going to say to me, then?"
"Nothing, I think, for the moment, but that I love you dearly, and feltthat I must come to be with you. Aren't you surprised to see me,Rhoda?"
"No, I don't think so. I don't feel anything. I wanted you, and then--there you were! It seemed quite natural."
"But it was rather peculiar all the same. I have been staying with Tom,and we were both asked down to D-- for a four days' visit. That is onlyhalf an hour's rail from here, as you know; so this morning when I sawthe list in the paper I thought at once--`I must see Rhoda! I will godown and chance finding her at home!'"
"Yes!"
"So I came, and am so glad to be with you, dear. I have seen yourmother, and have promised to stay to lunch. I need not go back untilfour o'clock."
"Oh, that's nice. I like to have you. Evie, I believe it was thearithmetic. I was so ill, I could hardly think. You might as well knowall now. It was my own doing. I had been working every morning beforegetting up, and that day I began at four. I tired myself out before thegong rang."
"I guessed as much. Dorothy told me that she heard someone turning overleaves!"
"Why don't you say, `I told you so!' then, and tell me that it's my ownfault?"
"I--don't--know! Perhaps because I do so many foolish things myself;perhaps because I haven't the heart to scold you just now, you poordear."
Rhoda's face quivered, but she pressed her lips together, and said witha gulp:
"I suppose--it's a childish trouble! I suppose--when I am old--andsensible--I shall look back on to-day, and laugh to think how I worriedmyself over such an unimportant trial."
"I am sure you will do nothing of the kind. You will be very, verysorry for yourself, and very pitiful, and very proud, too, if you canremember that you bore it bravely and uncomplainingly."
"But I can't! I can't bear it at all. It gets worse every moment. Ikeep remembering things that I had forgotten. Miss Bruce preaching, andMiss Mott staring through her spectacles--the girls all saying they aresorry, and the--the Record Wall, where I wanted to see my name! I_can't_ bear it, it's no use."
"But you will _have_ to bear it, Rhoda. It is a fact, and nothing thatyou can do will alter it now. You will have to bear it; but you canbear it in two ways, as you make up your mind to-day. You can cry andfret, and make yourself ill, and everyone else miserable, or you canbrace yourself up to bear it bravely, and make everyone love and admireyou more than they have ever done before. Which are you going to do?"
"I am going to be cross and horrid. I couldn't be good i
f I tried. I'msoured for life!" said Rhoda stoutly, but even as she spoke a smilestruggled with her tears, and Evie laughed aloud--her sweet, ringinglaugh.
"Poor, dear old thing! She looks so like it! I know better, and am nota bit afraid of you. You will be good and plucky, and rejoiceunaffectedly in Kathleen's success."
"Has Kathleen--Oh! Is Kathleen first?"
"She has won the Scholarship. Yes, it will be such a joy. She neededit so badly, and has worked so hard."
"I hate her!"
"She was always kind to you. I remember the very first day she took youround the grounds. You were very good friends."
"I hate her, I tell you! I detest her name."
"I am sure you will write and congratulate her. Imagine if _your_parents were poor, and you saw them harassed and anxious, how thankfulyou would feel to be able to help! Kathleen had a harder time than anyof you, for she could take none of the nice, interesting `Extras.' Ithink all her friends will be glad that she has won."
"I shall be glad, too, in about ten years. If I said I was glad now Ishould be a hypocrite, for I wanted it myself. I suppose Irene is allright, and Bertha, and all the Head girls? Has--has Dorothy--"
"Yes, Dorothy has passed too."
Rhoda cried aloud in bitter distress.
"Oh, Evie--oh! Dorothy passed, and I have failed! Oh it is cruel--unjust. I am cleverer than she! You can't deny it. I worked harder.I was before her always, in every class, in every exam. Oh, it's mean,it's mean that they should have put her before me!"
The tears streamed down her face, for this was perhaps the bitterestmoment she had known. To be beaten by Kathleen, and Irene, wasbearable, but--Dorothy! Easy-going, mediocre Dorothy, who had so littleambition that she could laugh at her own shortcomings, and contentedlycall herself a "tortoise." Well, the tortoise had come off victor oncemore, and the poor, beaten hare sat quivering with mortified grief.Miss Everett looked at her with perplexed, anxious eyes.
"You will probably find when the full report comes out that you havedone better in most respects, but that it is the preliminaries whichhave caused your failure. But Rhoda, Rhoda, how would it help you toknow that another poor girl had failed, and was as miserable asyourself? Would you be _glad_ to hear that Dorothy was sitting cryingat home, and Kathleen bearing her parents' grief as well as her own?You could not possibly be so selfish. I know you too well. You are fartoo kind and generous."
"I'm a pig!" said Rhoda contritely, and the tears trickled dismally offthe end of her nose, and splashed on to the wooden table. "I shouldlike to be a saint, and resigned, and rejoice in the good fortunes of mycompanions like the girls in books, but I can't. I just feel sore, andmad, and aching, and as if they were all in conspiracy against me tomake my failure more bitter. You had better give it up, Evie, and leaveme to fight it out alone. I'll come to my senses in time, and writepretty, gushing letters to say how charmed I am--and make funny littlejokes at the end about my own collapse. This is Monday--perhaps byWednesday or Thursday--"
"I expect it will be Tuesday, and not an hour later. You are lettingoff such an amount of steam that you will calm down more quickly thanyou think. And now, hadn't we better go indoors, and bathe those poorred eyes before lunch? Your mother will think I have been scolding you,and I don't want to be looked upon as a dragon when I'm out of harness,and posing as an innocent, unprofessional visitor. Come, dear, andwe'll talk no more of the horrid old exam., but try to forget it andenjoy ourselves!"
Rhoda's sigh was sepulchral in its intensity, for, of course, happinessmust henceforth be a thing of the past, so far as she was concerned; butas she did not appreciate the idea of appearing at lunch with a tear-stained face, she followed meekly to the house, and entering by a sidedoor, led the way upstairs to her own luxurious bedroom.
Half an hour of chastened enjoyment followed as she sat sponging hereyes, while Evie strolled round the room, exclaiming with admiration atthe sight of each fresh treasure, and showing the keenest interest inthe jugs and their histories. She admired Rhoda's possessions, andRhoda admired her, watching the graceful figure reflected in themirrors; the pretty dress, so simple, yet so becoming; the dark hairwaving so softly round the winsome face. Evie was certainly one of theprettiest of creatures, and Rhoda felt a sort of reflected glory intaking her downstairs and exhibiting her to her family.
If the tear marks had not altogether disappeared, no one appeared tonotice them, and despite her own silence, lunch was a cheery meal. Eviechattered away in her gayest manner; Mrs Chester agreed with every wordshe said, and called her "dear" as if she were a friend of years'standing. Mr Chester beamed upon her with undisguised, fatherlyadmiration, and Harold looked more animated than Rhoda had seen him formany a long day. The brisk, bright way in which Evie took up hisdrawling sentences, and put him right when he was mistaken in astatement, would have made him withdraw into his shell if attempted by amember of the household, but he did not seem in the least annoyed withEvie. He only smiled to himself in amused fashion, and watched hernarrowly out of the corners of his eyes.
When dessert was put upon the table, Mrs Chester looked wistfully atRhoda's white face, lighted into a feeble smile by one of her friend'ssallies, and was seized with a longing to keep this comforter at hand.
"I suppose you must go back to D-- this afternoon, dear," she said, "butcouldn't we persuade you to come back and pay us a visit before youleave this part of the world? It would be a great pleasure to Rhoda,and to us all, and any time would suit us. Just fix your own day,and--"
"Oh, Evie, do!" cried Rhoda eagerly, and both the men joined in withmurmurs of entreaty; but Miss Everett shook her head, and saidregretfully:
"I'm so sorry, but it's impossible. I have already been away longerthan I intended, and cannot spend another day away from home. My motheris busier than usual, for a sister who used to teach has had a badillness and is staying with us for six months, to rest and be nursed up.It would not be fair to stay away any longer."
"I should think you might be allowed to rest in your holidays. You workhard enough for the rest of the year, and I need you more than the oldaunt, I'm sure I do. You must come, if only for a week!"
"I wish I could, Rhoda, but it is not possible. I'll tell you, however,who I believe _could_ come, and who would do you more good than I, andthat is Tom Bolderston! She is in no hurry to return home, and as it isdecided that she is not to come back to Hurst Manor, but go on straightto Newnham, it will be your last opportunity of seeing her for sometime. You would enjoy having Tom, wouldn't you, Rhoda?"
Rhoda lifted her eyebrows with a comical expression. Tom here; Tom inErley Chase! Tom sitting opposite to Harold and blinking at him withher little fish eyes--the thought was so comical that she laughed inspite of herself.
"I think I should. It would be very funny. If I may ask her, mother--"
"Of course, of course, darling! Ask whom you will, for as long as youlike," cried the fond mother instantly. From what she had heard of Tomshe had come to the conclusion that she was a very strange, and notentirely sane, young woman; but Rhoda wished it, Rhoda had laughed atthe suggestion, and said it would be "funny," and that settled thequestion.
A letter of invitation was duly written and given into Miss Everett'shand when the time came for departure, and brother and sister escortedher to the station. Rhoda was insistent in her regrets at parting, and,wonderful to relate, Harold condescended to make still another plea. Ifit were impossible to arrange a visit, could not Miss Everett spare afew hours at least, come down by an early train, and spend a day on theriver with himself and his sister? He urged the project so warmly thatEvie flushed with mingled pleasure and embarrassment.
"Don't tempt me! I should love it, but we are here only for four days,and I have been away for one already. It would not be courteous."
"She is so horribly conscientious, that's the worst of her!" said Rhoda,as she and Harold retraced their steps across the Park. "She is alwaysthinkin
g about other people. A day on the river would have beenlovely."
"Yes, it's a pity. I thought we would ask Ella, and take up lunch andtea."
"Yes, of course, a very good idea. Then we should have been four, and Icould have had Evie to myself--"
"Y-es!" drawled Harold slowly. Two minutes later Rhoda happened to lookat his face, and wondered why in the world he was smiling to himself inthat funny, amused fashion!