CHAPTER FOUR.
DEPARTURE.
Mr and Mrs Chester returned from their visit to Hurst Manor withsomewhat different accounts of the establishment. The father wasdelighted with all he had seen, thought the arrangements excellent, andMiss Bruce a charming and lovable woman. The mother did not see howdraughts were to be avoided in those long, bare passages, considered thehours of work cruelly long, and was convinced that Miss Bruce could bevery stern if she chose. Her husband laughed, and declared that aschool of two hundred girls would fare badly indeed if she could not,and the maternal fears were silenced at once by his banter, and byRhoda's fearless confidence.
It was finally decided that the girl should join at the beginning of theterm, and preparations were set on foot without delay. It was almostlike buying a trousseau, Rhoda declared; and certainly no bride-electcould have taken a keener interest in her purchases. The big, new boxwith her initials on the side; the dressing-bag with its daintyfittings; the writing-case and workbox; the miniature medicine cheststocked with domestic remedies, in case she should feel feverish orchilled, have earache, toothache, or headache; be threatened with sorethroat or swollen glands--they were all new possessions, and as suchafforded acute satisfaction, for though the wardrobe list wasdisappointingly short, there were at least no restrictions as toquality.
When the key was turned in her box Rhoda heaved a sigh of satisfactionin the confidence that not one of the two hundred girls could possess abetter equipment than her own. Then she looked round her dismantledroom, and felt a pang of depression. It looked so _dead_--as if itsowner had already departed, and left it to its fate. The wardrobe doorswung apart and revealed the empty pegs; the drawers were pulled openand showed piles of torn-up letters; the carpet was strewn with pins.All the treasured ornaments had been stored away, and the ugly oneslooked uglier than ever, as if infected by the general dejection. Instory-books girls were wont to bid a sentimental adieu to their maidenbowers before leaving for a new sphere, but Rhoda did not feel in theleast inclined to be sentimental; she took to her heels instead and randownstairs, only too glad to escape from her dreary surroundings, andpresently she and her mother _were_ driving towards the station on thefirst stage of the eventful journey.
The village women stood at the doors of their cottages to put theiraprons to their eyes, and murmur, "Ay, poor dear!" as she drove past;little Tommy Banks threw a nosegay of marigolds through the carriagewindow, and waddled away, scarlet with confusion; and there was quite agathering of friends on the platform.
Ella had brought a box of home-made Fuller's sweets from herself and adainty copy of _The Christian Year_ as the Vicar's farewell offering;Mrs Ross had a stack of magazines for reading on the journey, andlittle Miss Jones, who owed all the comforts of life to Mrs Chester'sfriendship, presented the most elaborate "housewife," stocked with everynecessary which it seemed probable that a girl at school would _not_require. It was all most touching and gratifying. Even the station-master came up to express his good wishes, and the one-eyed porterblurted out, "Glad to see you back, Miss!" as if it were impossible tosuppress his feelings a moment longer.
Rhoda felt an insight into the feelings of Royalty as she stood at thewindow of the carriage, graciously smiling and bowing so long as sheremained in sight, and when this excitement was over, another appearedto take its place. Mrs Chester was discovered to be crying in quiteuncontrolled fashion, and at the sight of her tears Rhoda put on herseverest air.
"Mother! What are you doing? You must _not_ cry! Please remember thatin half an hour we shall be at Euston, and meet the school. I shouldnever get over it if the girls saw my mother with a red face!"
Mrs Chester mopped her eyes obediently, and made a valiant effort toregain her composure. For herself, poor dear, she cared little aboutappearances, but Rhoda had already exhibited an intense anxiety that sheshould make a good impression on the minds of her future school-fellows.Each separate article of clothing had been passed in review, while thebonnet had been changed three times over before the critic wassatisfied. It would never do to spoil an effect which had been achievedwith so much trouble; so the unselfish creature gulped down her tears,and tried to talk cheerfully on impersonal topics, keeping her eyesfixed on the landscape the while, lest the sight of her child mightprove too much for her resolution.
Rhoda was immaculate in blue serge coat and skirt, and sailor hat with aband of school colours. Nothing could have been simpler; but there areranks in even the simplest garments, and she was agreeably consciousthat her coat was not as other coats, neither was her skirt as otherskirts. The hand of the Regent Street tailor was seen in both, andthere was a new arrangement of pleats at the back which ought in itselfto secure the admiration of the school! She was all complacency untilEuston was reached, when the first glimpse at a group of "Hurst" girlssmote her to earth. She had sewn the band on her hat upside down,putting the wide stripe next the brim, which should by rights have beenthe place of the narrow! To the cold, adult mind such a discovery mightseem of trifling importance, but to the embryo school-girl it wasfraught with agonising humiliation. It looked so ignorant, so stupid;it marked one so hopelessly as a recruit; Rhoda's cheeks burned crimson;she looked searchingly round to see if by chance any other strangelinghad fallen into the same error, but, so far as bands were concerned, shewas solitary among the throng.
A governess, seeing the two figures standing apart from the rest, cameforward and welcomed Rhoda with a few kindly words, but she was too busyto spare time for more than a greeting. Fresh girls kept arriving withevery moment--a crowd of brisk, alert, bustling young creatures,skurrying along bags in hand, and bright eyes glancing to right andleft. At every step forward there would come a fresh recognition, a nodof the head, a wave of the hand, a quick "Halloa!" more eloquent thanelegant. Rhoda felt a spasm of loneliness at the realisation that nogreeting waited for herself, and at the strangeness of the many faces.She looked critically around and came to the most unfavourableconclusions.
"I don't like that one--she's a fright! I hate that one--she's soaffected. Those two look common; I won't have anything to do with_them_. The big one with spectacles looks horribly learned. The onewith the violin has a most unmusical face. _She_ looks fit forstratagems if you like! The little one in brown is a cunning fox, I cansee it in her eyes. Of all the plain, uninteresting, stodgy set ofgirls--"
There was a movement inside the saloon carriage opposite, and a largemamma clad in black, with a profusion of bugles, stepped on to theplatform and marched stolidly away. She steered a course clear of thecrowd of girls, the ends of her mantle floating behind her, like a brigin full sail before the breeze, while her poor little daughter hung outof the doorway gazing after her, sobbing bitterly, and mouthing inpathetic, helpless misery.
Mrs Chester began to cry at once in sympathy, and even Rhoda felt asmarting of the eyes. It was coming! The crucial moment was at hand;the bell was ringing, the girls were crowding into the carriages, thegoverness stepped forward and spoke a warning word.
"You had better come now, dear! Please take your seat."
Rhoda turned and bent her tall young head to her little mother, butneither spoke--the tension was too great. Mrs Chester's face wastremulous with agitation, the girl's white and defiant. Then shestepped into the carriage and seated herself among the crowd ofstrangers. The girls were all silent now, pale of face and red of eye,a few crying openly, the majority fighting against emotion. The motherscame to the edge of the platform, and stared in through the windows.
"It is like looking at animals in a cage," said Rhoda to herself, andthen the wheels began to move, she saw her mother's quivering face--sawit from a distance--saw it no more--and realised for the first time,with a great, bitter pang of anguish, the meaning of farewell!
She had not intended to cry, she had never believed it possible that she_would_ cry, but it was hard work to resist it during the next half-hour, when every second bore her further from home, and the stra
ngenessof her surroundings pressed more heavily upon her. Other girls werebeginning to cheer up and exchange confidences with their companions,but she had no one with whom to talk. Two girls opposite--the foxey oneand the affected one--were chatting quite merrily together. Theaffected one, whose name appeared to be Hilda, had spent part of herholiday at Boulogne, and was discoursing on the delights of Continentalbathing, while Foxey, not to be outdone, would have her know thatScarborough kept pace with all the Continental methods.
Another girl made the harrowing discovery that she had left herspectacles at home, and announced the same to a chum, who remarked thatit was "a ripping joke!" The violin girl had had a bicycling accident,and exhibited her scars with pride. The shock of parting over, they allseemed very happy together, very friendly, very absorbed; far too muchabsorbed to notice a new-comer, or trouble themselves on her behalf.The governess stood by Rhoda's side for a few minutes and made remarksin an aggressively cheerful manner, but her reception was notencouraging, and presently she went away, and did not return.
Rhoda looked at the pictures in her magazines, or pretended to look, forher brain was so much occupied with other matters that she could notgrasp their meaning, and after five minutes' inspection would hardlyhave been able to say whether she had been studying the features of acountry landscape or those of a society beauty. Then she turned andcautiously examined her neighbours. The girl to the right was a square,stolid-looking creature, square-faced, square-shouldered, with squaretoes to her boots, and elbows thrust out on each side in square,aggressive fashion. Her eyes were small and light, and her nose adefiance of classic traditions; the corners of her mouth turned down,and she had at once the solemnest and the most mischievous expression itis possible to imagine. After a critical survey of her charms, Rhodafelt that she was not the person with whom to force a conversation, andturned her attention to the neighbour on her left.
A recruit, surely; for, though her hat-band was in order, there was inher mien an absence of that brisk, independent air which seemed tocharacterise the old Hurst girl. A pretty damsel, too, with curlinghair and soft dark eyes, which at the present moment were bent inelaborate scrutiny on the paper before her. Rhoda noticed that it wasthe advertisement page at which she was looking, and suspected a pre-occupation kindred to her own. She coughed slightly and ventured agentle question--
"Is this your first term at school?"
The dark-eyed girl turned a fleeting glance upon her, so fleeting thatit seemed as if she had never altered her position, and repliedmonosyllabically:
"Yes."
"You are going up, like me, for the first time?"
"Yes."
"And you have never been to school before?"
"Yes."
"I mean a boarding school. A big school like this, on all the newlines?"
"Yes."
This was disconcerting! What _did_ she mean? It was her first term,she was a new girl, and yet she had been up before! What was the girlthinking about! She might really trouble herself to say more than onesingle word.
"But you said--I understood you to say--"
Brown Eyes turned fiercely upon her, and fairly snapped in indignation.
"I don't care what I said, or what you understood. Can't you _see_ Iwant to be quiet? Can't you leave me alone? If I am a new girl, Idon't want to howl before all the others, do I! Very well, then! don'tmake me talk! Read your book, and let me read mine."
"I _beg_ your pardon!" said Rhoda, in her most stately manner. She tookup her magazine obediently, but now it was more impossible than ever toread it, for she was tingling with mortification. Such a snub from astranger, and when she was trying to be friendly too! It would be along time before she troubled Brown Eyes again. Her thoughts went backregretfully to Ella, the loyal, the sympathetic, the faithfullyadmiring. If Ella were only here now, how different it would be! Whyhad she not thought of it before, and asked her parents to pay Ella'sfees, so that she might have the solace of her presence? They wouldhave done it gladly, but, alas! Ella could not have been spared fromhome. She had to help her mother; to be governess as well as pupil,teaching the younger children for part of every day. No! Ella wasimpossible; but the craving for companionship grew so intense that iteven conquered the dread inspired by her other companion, andstrengthened her to make yet another effort.
The train had just left a station whose name was familiar in her ears,and she realised that they had crossed the boundary between twocounties, and were now in Blankshire, in which Hurst Manor itself wassituated. To remark on this fact seemed an innocent and natural mannerof opening a conversation, so she turned towards Square Face, and saidbrightly, "Now we are in Blankshire, I see! I have never been herebefore. The country looks very pretty and undulating."
The girl turned and stared at her with a wooden stolidity of feature.Seen at close quarters she appeared to Rhoda as at once the mostextraordinarily ugly and comical-looking creature she had ever beheld.Her little eyes blinked, and the thin lips flapped up and down in anuncanny fashion that refused to be likened to any ordinary thing. Therewas a moment's silence, then she repeated in a tone of the utmostsolemnity--
"The country is very pretty and undulating--you are quite right. Yourremark is most apt! May I ask if you would object to my repeating it tomy friend over here? She would be so very much interested."
She was so preternaturally grave, that for a moment Rhoda was taken inby the pretence, the next she flushed angrily, and tilted her head inthe air, but it was of no avail, for already the next girl was titteringover the quotation, and turning to repeat it in her turn. The simplewords must surely contain some hidden joke, for on hearing it eachlistener was seized with a paroxysm of laughter, and face after facepeered forward to stare at the originator, and chuckle with renewedmirth. It was a good ten minutes before it had travelled round thecarriage and been digested by each separate traveller, and then, so farfrom dying out, it acquired fresh life from being adapted to passingcircumstances, as when the train having stopped at a junction and movedon again with a jerk, Square Face fell prone into her companion's arms,and excused herself with a bland--
"Excuse me, dear. It's my little way. I _am_ so pretty andundulating," and instantly the titters burst out afresh.
Rhoda's face was a study, but even as she sat fuming with passion, avoice spoke in her ear from the side where Brown Eyes still studied heradvertisements.
"Laugh, can't you?" said the voice. "Laugh, too, as if you enjoyed thejoke. It's the only way. They will go on all the more if they see youare angry."
"I hate them all!" hissed Rhoda savagely, and the other heaved a sigh.
"Ah, so do I, but they shan't hate me if I know it! I'm sorry Isnapped, but I'll talk now, and for pity's sake don't look so dismal.Let us look over this paper together, and make remarks, and smile as ifwe were enjoying ourselves too."
"I don't feel as if I should ever enjoy myself again. It's hatefulgoing to school. If I had known it was as bad as this I would neverhave come."
"There's a lake in the grounds. We will drown ourselves together aftertea, but in the meantime do please keep up appearances. Don't giveyourself away before all these girls!"
Rhoda looked at her curiously, and felt a thrill of comfort at finding afriend in the midst of her desolation. "What is your name?" she queriedeagerly, and the dark eyes met hers in a solemn stare.
"Marah, for bitterness. That's how I feel to-day, anyhow. Mygodmothers and godfather christened me Dorothy, and in festive moments Ihave even answered to `Doll,' but I'd murder any one who called me thatto-day. Now, I'll show you something interesting... I've travelled onthis line before, and if you look out of the window you can catch aglimpse of Hurst Manor as we pass the next station. It stands in itsown grounds with nothing between it and the line. Over there to theright--you can't miss it if you keep your eyes open. Now! There! Thatgaunt, grey building."
Rhoda looked, and there it lay--a gaunt building, indeed,
with row uponrow of tall, bare windows staring like so many eyes, and out-standingwings flanked like sentinels on either side. The poor recruit's facelengthened with horror.
"It looks," she said dismally, "like a prison! It looks as if when youonce got in, you would never never get out any more!"