CHAPTER XV.

A TEXT FROM GOETHE.

Jessica had gone to bed a homesick, ashamed, discouraged girl. She awoke, full of determination to conquer all the difficulties of this “education” which had, last night, seemed so formidable.

As she stood before her little mirror, brushing the yellow curls into that semblance of order which was their morning state, and that so soon gave place to a tangle of glistening threads and escaping tendrils, she regarded herself with severity.

“Jessica Trent, you may be going to be ‘one of the richest’ sometime, but at present you are a simpleton. You’ve got everything before you--not a thing behind, except--Well, except knowing how to ride a horse or an ostrich, or hit a bull’s-eye, or a few other things that Madame Mearsom would surely say were ‘unbefitting a gentlewoman.’ I used to love that word, hearing my mother use it. I begin--I begin to hate it! Humph! There goes, already! A gentlewoman doesn’t say ‘hate.’ But listen, you girl in the glass. I’m going to study so hard I’ll catch up with that lowest ‘form’ I’m not clever enough to enter yet; and I’ll pass it by. Then I’ll tackle the next one, and leave that behind. I’ll--get to be the highest-up, intelligentest--that doesn’t sound right but you know what I mean, Jessica Trent. I’ll be the head of the school, as Aubrey said that handsome Helen Rhinelander is. I’ll take care to keep every rule and I’ll find out what they are. And I’ll do it all for love’s sake--for my mother! I made a bad beginning, but ‘Little Captain,’ hear me say I’m bound to make a good ending. I WILL! Right here and now I’ll write that poetry out, which Madame quoted from that Goethe. I know who he was, my father had his books in his little library. Maybe, who knows! it might have been that very verse which encouraged dear father to go ahead and start Sobrante and try to help so many people. He believed he could ‘do’ it and he did. I remember it exactly.”

Taking a sheet of the school paper which was supplied to each girl’s room, Jessica wrote in her very best hand, and in that large size which would make the script readable from every part of the room.

“What you can do, or think you can, begin it. Boldness hath genius, power, and magic in it.”

This she pinned to the mirror-frame, and, after her brief devotions, she answered to the “assembly bell” that summoned her to the hall below; and entered as “boldly” as if her heart were not beating very fast and her cheek glowing very red, meeting the curious gaze of her schoolmates.

Of course, the news of her escapade and Madame’s anxiety concerning the three absentees from last night’s table had spread through all the forms.

Helen Rhinelander had emphasized the fact that “one must expect such things from a wild Westerner and that for her part, she felt Madame had made a great mistake in admitting such a creature to the Adelphi. Pretty? Well, yes, in a certain way; but no style. Not an atom of style; and style was the one thing neither money nor education could procure. It had to be born in a person,” said Helen, with decision, and all her coterie chirped: “Yes.”

However, Helen was but one, although her influence held many. Also, there may be counter-influences even more powerful than wealth and style. Along with the discussion of last night’s affair was circulated by some braver spirits, the fact that it was the young “Westerner’s” cool sense which had extricated the trio from a most unpleasant position, and that Madame was smiling affectionately upon her, as she now crossed the hall to the seat assigned her.

The smile which Jessica flashed back into that motherly face expressed something of the thought she had had while brushing her hair. At least, Madame, long versed in the study of young girls’ faces so interpreted it; and now she not only smiled again but nodded her white head in approval.

Prayers over, the family marched quietly out to breakfast, that was as liberal in quantity and as faultlessly served as it would have been in some big hostelry. A small matter in itself, some might have said, but a detail of infinite gain in the matter of the Adelphi’s success. Also, an excellent equipment for the day’s study that was to follow. “Healthy bodies make healthy minds” was one of the schoolmistress’s maxims; a maxim nearly always correct.

After breakfast there came a half-hour of recreation, passed usually in the garden or conservatory behind the house. Then a silver bell struck the school hour and each girl filed to her place at her own individual desk in her own form class-room.

This was Jessica’s first glimpse of a time-regulated household, and she was so absorbed in watching the others that she scarcely realized she had been left behind, alone, till a pleasant-faced teacher addressed her:

“Miss Jessica, you are to be my ‘special’ for the present. I am Miss Montaigne. This way, please. We are to have a cosy little spot quite to ourselves, for a time.”

“Good morning. I will try not to give you much trouble, Miss Montaigne, but I am very stupid. I don’t know anything, really.”

“All the more enjoyable then, to learn. I am so fond of study myself that I fancy everybody else must be. Sit here, please.”

The place was but an alcove, opening into the lower form class-room, but isolated from it sufficiently that what went on within between teacher and pupil could not be overheard. A very haven of comfort for Jessica, had she been really as stupid as she felt; and one that soon became to her the very dearest spot in all the great building. In reality, she was now so eager to learn that she could have “tackled,” as she called it, every branch of study represented in the institution at once and altogether. But Miss Montaigne would have none of this.

“Madame has been a most successful instructor and she allows no overcrowding. Two studies at a time, with an ‘accomplishment’ is her rule. We are to take up arithmetic and spelling first. With music, or art, or what your taste decides. Now, we’ll begin. This sum in addition, if you please;” and the teacher pointed to the very simplest possible.

Jessica glanced at it in contempt.

“That? Why that’s far easier than making out the ‘boys’ wage-list. You must be teasing me!”

“No, indeed. Beginning at the root of things. That’s all. You may climb and grow as fast as Jack’s bean-stalk if you wish. I’ll help push!”

Why, what a delightful person this Miss Montaigne was! Almost as good as another girl to talk with, and how like a game she made that “hated” arithmetic seem. It _was_ a game. Played so swiftly and eagerly between these two that before either noticed how the time was passing the recess hour was struck and--such a babel of happy voices as followed it.

Desks were deserted, mates sought mates, Aubrey alone mourned sorrowful in her corner, though Natalie rushed into the alcove and whirled Jessica out of it, disputing with somebody across the room:

“You’re a mean, hateful girl! It is no such thing! She isn’t! She’s a dear! Aren’t you, Jessica Trent?”

Jessica returned the ardent hug she received with another as fond, then holding Natalie off demanded:

“Who are you quarreling with? What did she say?”

“That top-lofty Helen Rhinelander. She calls this the ‘dunce’s corner’ and that you wouldn’t have been any more conspicuous if Madame had stood you on a stool with a cap on your head. I don’t see what’s the matter with Helen. She’s hateful enough all the time but she’s never been quite so unpleasant as since you, came, yesterday. I--I wish she’d behave.”

“So do I. What’s more I’ll make her yet!”

“Why--Jessica! How can you?” asked the other girl, astonished, as a group of schoolmates drew near, anxious to know the “new-er” who had already so stirred the quiet depths of the school.

There was a flash of “Little Captain’s” blue eyes, as she answered:

“I don’t know just how yet but I will. I’ll make her so ashamed she’ll want to hide her head. Madame said she was a real gentlewoman, and if she is her hatefulness can’t be deep. I’ll conquer her by kindness, as my mother says is the best way with ugly folks. That’s the way she did a Chinese cook we had at Sobrante, and who was--horrible. But he got over it. Nobody could be nicer than Wun Lung is now.”

“Let’s go out into the garden. The ’mums are just beautiful now. Do you have chrysanthemums in California, Jessica?” asked another girl, slipping her arm about the stranger in such a friendly manner that Helen Rhinelander’s coldness was forgotten.

“Little Captain” had always won liking, wherever she was known, because of her keen interest in other people and her forgetfulness of self, nor did she fail now. One by one, her fellow students, even from the higher forms, gathered about the stranger, listening to her “Californian talk”--a subject which made her tongue run glibly; and so graphically did she describe life at Sobrante that she made these New Yorkers envious of its freedom and constant sunshine. But not a word did she speak of her prospective wealth; and, oddly enough, from this reticence the notion spread that she was in reality a poor girl.

“One of Madame’s charity pupils. The daughter of a former ‘Adelphian’ who can’t afford to pay for her. That’s why she’s dressed in such cheap stuff. Well, she’s nice. She’s real nice, even if she is the ‘stupidest girl in school,’ and I shall treat her just the same as if she were one of _us_,” said Rosalie Thorne, a sweet-faced senior who was Helen’s rival for “honors” and was greatly beloved of both teachers and mates. She was, also, a very conscientious person and, perceiving Helen’s attitude toward the “wild Westerner” set herself to use her own influence in an opposite direction.

Thus it happened that Jessica’s coming had divided the school into two factions; which promptly elected themselves to be “Pros” and “Cons,” and beginning with the toss of one haughty young head had grown like that veritable “bean-stalk” to which Miss Montaigne had smilingly referred.

But Jessica, the innocent cause of this disruption, took it lightly. Sufficient for her the fact that there were “Pros” enough to more than satisfy her longing for “girls,” and that these were almost as admiringly affectionate as even her “boys” at home. So, before many hours passed she was so happy that “she almost felt wicked,” remembering how desperately sad she had been at parting with her mother. She even questioned Madame Mearsom herself upon the subject:

“Dear Madame, is it right for me to be so glad? Is it like turning my back on mother and Cousin Margaret, and all the rest of the grown-up folks? I’m not forgetting, you know. I’m not really forgetting; only there doesn’t seem to be room in my heart for sorrow and all these good times together. This is the very first time I ever lived with girls and I think--I think they are just too delightful for words!”

Whereat Madame patted the little hand which had stolen to her shoulder and answered, emphatically:

“It is most certainly and entirely right. That is why you are here--to be happy. I can send no more pleasing message to Sobrante than that you are so ‘glad.’”

One thing alone really disturbed Jessica’s full content. That was the peculiar behavior of Ephraim Marsh. Invariably, when the day was fair enough for the “Adelphians” to take their accustomed walks, “Forty-niner” would appear on the opposite side of the same street. He would march along, head erect, “eyes front,” as if keeping step to some invisible band--his whole attitude as correctly military as he could make it. Never, by any possibility, did he recognize Jessica, nor answer to her excited hand-salutes--the only sort she was permitted on the street, or from that distance--and this hurt her sadly. More than that, he never used his visitor’s privilege of “once a week, on Thursdays, from four till six.”

“All the other girls have their friends come to see them, Ephy dear. Why don’t you?”

He gave her no explanation, simply said, each time: “I’ll see.” Not for anything would he have confessed to her that his proud old heart had been offended by Madame’s slowly pronounced reply to his question concerning these visits, for which his own soul hungered unspeakably. He only urged her to get leave to come to the flat as often as she could, even though such calls were as unsatisfactory as possible.

“Couldn’t you come without that teaching woman tagged to you, ‘Little Captain,’ not even once? I’d come for you in a hired carriage and I’d pay the taxes for it if it took my bottom dollar--which it wouldn’t. I can’t half begin to use my wages, as a teacher myself, and Sophia Badger Briggs being such an equonomical housekeeper. I take Sophy posies, but I daren’t send ’em to you. Them windows to your ‘Adelphi’ are always chock full of flowers anyway.”

“Yes. There’s a little conservatory, you know, in the garden. Besides the girls’ folks, the rich folks that have always lived in New York, send flowers. They consider it so ‘refining’; but, Ephy dear! I’d give all my year’s allowance just for one dear, yellow California poppy, instead of these ‘American Beauties’ and orchids. Never mind. We’ll be going home sometime and can gather them for ourselves, and I am, I certainly am, very, very happy. Why, Ephy! I’m learning so fast, I’ll be admitted to the lowest form very, very soon. And I’m taking fiddle lessons. I mean violin ones. I sing, too. Madame says I have a very good ‘organ’--that’s something in my throat, you know--though I’ll never equal Gabriella! That’s mother. Gabriella was the ‘star pupil.’ She stood head of everything. Sometimes, when I get pretty tired I feel as if it were dreadful to have to live up to my mother! I don’t see why they don’t have stars at both ends of the class, top and bottom; then I’d be a star, myself, without any trouble. Ephraim Marsh, did you know I was a dunce?”

“Shucks! No. Nor nobody knows it. ’Tisn’t so. If you aren’t the smartest----”

“No, Ephy, it’s sadly, desperately true. The things I don’t know would fill--would fill Madame’s ‘unabridged dictionary!’ I get almost discouraged, times; but I do love to learn things. I love it. Only I can’t learn them half fast enough. I want to get to be a ‘star’ right away quick.”

This was on one of Jessica’s brief visits to Granny Briggs’s “apartment.” The girl had been corrected for speaking of “flat.” Miss Montaigne who had accompanied her special charge was reading a book she had brought with her in the tiny front room, called the “parlor” by the proud mistress of the little establishment. In fact, she disliked her own present, enforced surveillance of the trustworthy girl, who had grown up under the faithful care of the old frontiersman; but Madame’s rules were inflexible. Her young ladies must be attended during such calls by some employee of her own.

Jessica suddenly remembered the young lady in the parlor and pushed aside the plate of Indian pudding which had been part of Granny’s “New England dinner.”

“Oh! dear! I suppose I must go now. Dear Ephy, do stop that angry tramping up and down! The little dining-room isn’t big enough for such a great old fellow as you to go ‘rampagin’ in. We’re going to school, both of us, aren’t we? But, have patience, we’ll graduate sometime--with honors or without them, who knows? And then we’ll go home.”

“You believe we will! Why, ‘Little Captain,’ I’m saving up again’ it already. It shan’t cost anybody but Ephraim Marsh, one single cent for all this coming and going, these betwixts and betweens, and all the whole enduring business of living in New York till we get graddyated. Shucks! What’s Sophia Badger doing now?”

What, indeed! Could that hospitable creature, who had neither hesitated nor been ashamed once to offer her last slice of bread to a chance visitor, could she do less than hunt out her one plate which had a trifle of decoration about it, and heaping it with the really delicious pudding carry it into her parlor for Miss Montaigne’s delectation?

Ephraim was aghast. He was more afraid of the prim little “special” than even of the Madame herself, for the younger woman wore “glasses” that magnified the eyes behind them into something really formidable. Besides, however she might lay aside austerity when with her pupil, she assumed the most dignified of manners when abroad.

That is, she had done so, heretofore. But Granny Briggs--even the rule-encased schoolma’am could not withstand her appealing face, encircled by its flapping cap-ruffle; and with an apparent delight she graciously accepted the pudding, murmuring her most correct “Thank you.”

In another moment the delight had ceased to be apparent and had become real. One mouthful of the “tasty” dessert proved that this was something quite out of the common, and the pretty plate was not returned to Granny till it was empty.

“O Mrs. Briggs! That was so kind of you. Your dainty has carried me back to the time when I went visiting my own grandmother in your New England, and her big kitchen with all its good things. I have enjoyed it more than anything I have eaten for a long, long time.”

This was a trivial matter in itself; but it was not trivial in its results. Thereafter Miss Montaigne threw all her influence to bear in giving Jessica more frequent chances to meet her “humble friends,” as Madame called them; and now and then to let her meet them as Ephraim had desired, under his escort to and fro.

One thing delighted his soul. Late in the year Madame added a riding academy to her school; or engaged one for certain afternoons of each week. Here the sharpshooter knew his darling would shine, and she did.

Yet her success seemed for a time but to increase the unfriendliness of the “Con” side of the school. The riding classes had been added by the solicitation of Helen Rhinelander, already a fine horsewoman, who, during her summer vacations had sometimes “ridden to hounds” with some fashionable house-party. She loved riding beyond all other exercise, and had been early taught. She looked for no rival in the matter; but the very first day, when Jessica had been admitted to the lesson, she saw that she might be equalled, or even eclipsed.

“That girl rides as if she were part of her horse. The master gave her that fractious brute of his own, as soon as she begged for it, thinking that the easiest way to take down her self-conceit; and meaning, of course, to keep close beside her in case of a fall. Fall? The animal couldn’t shake her off. He tried, forward and backward, sidewise and every other wise, but she stuck like a burr. The master was amazed. Soon he let go the bridle and only watched--to be ready for accident. After that he watched from sheer delight; and as soon as she had made the circuit of the ring a few times and had brought her mount down to a quiet pacing, he said: ‘Miss Trent, I must congratulate you. I have nothing to teach you.’

“Then Jessica was afraid he wouldn’t let her stay in the class, and asked him; and, of course, he said he was only too proud of the honor. Then he questioned her and found out that she had been put on a horse’s back before she was out of baby-clothes and had to be held there, while the horse was led around; and afterward--‘Well, afterward, I don’t remember much except a horse, or sometimes a burro. One has to ride in California, it’s so big, and wide, and places are so far apart; and, oh! yes! I forgot! I can ride an ostrich, too. King Zulu was the first one in America who was ever mounted, so the “boys” claim. He is more fun even than the swiftest horse; he’s faster, you know.’

“Fancy, Madame Mearsom, that girl talking away like that to our reserved master! But he liked it. He liked it so well, he even said: ‘I thought I had a magnificent horsewoman in Miss Rhinelander, but Miss Trent, I fear she will have to yield the palm to you.’”

“O Rosalie! I’m sorry he said that,” answered Madame, to whom Miss Thorne had given the above description. “I’ve heard about this division in the school--our rival favorites; and though I have seemed to ignore it, it has grieved me deeply. Helen is charming, but for some unknown reason she appears to have taken a dislike to Jessica. I am very, very sorry. There should be no rivalry or jealousy between those two. They are not of the same age, they differ in all respects--I mean are so unlike one another--they ought to be the best of friends. Do what you can, dear Rosalie, to bridge this difference. I wish something would happen to settle the matter!”

Something _was_ to happen; but the anxious schoolmistress could not foresee that it would be in the nature of a tragedy.