Part 2

Several of the girls smiled, and Abby laughed outright, despite her sister's reproving looks, all of which did not tend to make Charlotte feel any more amiably. Almost as soon as school was out for the afternoon, she came up to where Olive and Abby were standing, with several of the other girls.

"I wish to know, Olive," she said, in her measured tones, "whether you intend to dispute the mathematical prize with me?"

"I do not intend to dispute it with you, or any one, Charlotte," replied Olive, gently; "I should stand very little chance of success if I did. You know I have always been very deficient in mathematics, and I want to make it up while I have time. As for the prize, that is as it may happen. I shall be very much surprised if I do get it, and certainly your chance is much better than mine."

"I am to understand, then, that you mean to contend for the prize?"

"No," replied Olive, a little impatiently; "I do not. I only mean to learn my lessons as well as I can, and let the prize take its chance."

"If that is all you want, I think it would be just as well to learn your lessons without the key," said Charlotte, with a significant sneer.

Olive colored, while Abby exclaimed: "How perfectly absurd you are, Charlotte. I don't believe Olive ever looked at the key, and I am sure I should know it if she had."

"I do not believe there is any key," said Maria Grey. "Miss Lincoln," she asked of one of the teachers who was passing, "is there any key to the higher algebra?"

"Not that ever I heard of," answered Miss Lincoln; "why?"

"Nothing, only Charlotte thought she had seen one," said Maria, and Miss Lincoln passed on. "You see you are wrong, Charlotte," she continued; "I really think you owe Olive an apology for your uncivil insinuation."

"Perhaps I was wrong in 'this' instance," returned Charlotte, with peculiar emphasis. "I confess I am not so well acquainted with keys and counted exercises as some of you."

She turned round to mark the effect of this speech upon Olive, but Olive had left the room.

Olive learned to attach much less importance to her cousin's jealousy, since she seemed to have a prospect of escaping from it at some time or other. But she had a new source of uneasiness. It was two weeks since she had written to her uncle, and she had yet received no answer. She began to think that he was ill, or else that he was seriously displeased, and either idea was sufficiently unpleasant. About Mrs. Merton's opinion she felt less anxiety; for she felt that, however annoyed her aunt might be in the outset, she was sure to come round to her husband's side in the end.

The next morning, however, brought the much-desired answer, and it was with no little agitation that Olive retired to her room and broke the seal. A hasty glance told her that she had nothing to fear from her uncle's anger, and, that apprehension removed, she was able to read the letter more calmly from beginning to end.

Mr. Merton was not in the least displeased with his niece's desire for independence; on the contrary, he sympathized with her entirely, but he feared that she had not thoroughly counted the cost. Teaching, pursued as a means of support, was a laborious, and oftentimes a harassing occupation. It would probably be some time before she would be able to earn a high salary, or occupy any but a subordinate position, and she would find herself obliged to put up with a good many trials, of which she had very little conception. He did not, however, mean to discourage her from her undertaking, which he thought very praiseworthy, but he wished her to take the time which remained of the term for consideration. And if, when she came home, she continued of the same mind, he would cheerfully aid her by every means in his power. He mentioned at the end that aunt Rebecca sent her love, but he did not say whether she knew any thing of the matter in hand.

Olive's feelings had been wrought up to a pitch higher than she herself was aware of. While the matter was uncertain, she had made up her mind to be disappointed, but no sooner did she learn that there was every prospect of success, than she became aware of what a failure would have cost her, and, while she laughed at herself for the weakness, she could not help crying.

Abby surprised her before she had quite dried her tears. She snatched the letter from her sister's hands, and read it through.

"Why, what are you crying for?" she very naturally asked. "I do not see but uncle says every thing you could wish. You certainly can not think it unreasonable that he wants you to wait till vacation before deciding! Even I should not object to that."

"I don't know what I am crying for, that is the truth," said Olive, drying her tears and laughing, "only that I had made up my mind to be disappointed, and uncle's kind letter came upon me with a sort of surprise. I do not at all complain of his wanting me to take a longer time for consideration, you may be sure."

"I wonder what aunt Rebecca will say!"

"I rather think he has not mentioned the affair to her at all. I wish you would join me, Abby."

"Oh! No; it is entirely out of the question. To begin with, I don't know any thing well enough to teach it, but music, and I never should have the patience to teach that. Think of being obliged, day after day, to listen to all sorts of compositions, good and bad, drummed and thrummed, and thumped and pounded, out of all sorts of pianos, by all sorts of hands, with a running accompaniment of 'one,' two, three—'one,' two, three—mind the rests—one, two, three—take care of that accidental—and so on, to the end of the chapter."

"But you might learn other things, Abby."

"It is far too late for that, my dear, even if I had the capacity, which I have not. And besides, I am very well contented as I am. I shall be sorry to have you away, but if you think you will be happier, I shall not mind it so much. And perhaps, as I said, I shall be married to some rich man before you come back from your first term, and then you can come and live with me."

"You would not marry for an establishment, would you, dear?"

"Oh! Not really, you know! That would be worse than teaching, because it would be mean, us well as inconvenient. But then, I may take a fancy to a rich man as well as a poor one, may I not?"

"You may, to be sure," said Olive, smiling, "but I do not think it is very profitable to speculate upon such things."

"Well, then, if you won't be interested in my matrimonial projects, come and play battledore with me in the hall. That good-natured little Anna has lent me hers, and I am dying for some one to play with me. Come, you are getting as old as your great-grandmother, over those stupid figures. Who do you think will want a teacher looking like a Sphynx?"

Olive laughed, but suffered herself to be drawn away from her books, and at the end of an hour's active exercise, she certainly felt better, and inclined to take a brighter view of life. She gave Charlotte her father's message, without, however, showing her the letter, at which Charlotte was very angry, and at once concluded that Olive had been writing something to her disadvantage.

Examination-time came, and, to the wonder of every one, Olive took but one premium, and that was for the higher mathematics—considered the highest prize in the school. No one stood any where near her but Charlotte, and she was twenty behind, though she took the second honor in French, and the first in history.

Olive was as much astonished as any one else: she had not kept the run of her own credits, and could hardly believe her ears when the account was read. It was with any thing but a feeling of unmixed pleasure that she went forward to receive the prize—a beautifully-fitted writing-desk.

As soon after school as she could get an opportunity, she went up to Mrs. Granger's private room, where she found Charlotte, apparently in a state of much excitement, and she caught her own name as she entered.

"Mrs. Granger," said Olive, "are you sure there is no mistake about the prize?"

"What mistake could there be, Olive?"

"I did not think—I had no idea of gaining the prize in mathematics," replied Olive. "I supposed Charlotte would like it of course."

"I presume Charlotte thought so too, and that may be the way she has lost it," said Mrs. Granger. "She has taken it so many times that she felt herself perfectly secure, and relaxed her efforts, while you have improved very much. Charlotte has taken two prizes, and that ought to content her."

"I should hive taken this too, if I had had a fair chance," burst forth Charlotte, the violence of her feelings causing her to forget the respect due to Mrs. Granger's presence. "If the trial had been half fair, I should have had nothing to fear."

"What am I to understand by that, Miss Merton?" asked Mrs. Granger, with stately dignity.

"That Olive has been helped and favored in every way, while I have been left to depend upon my own efforts," returned Charlotte, far too angry to consider what she said. "Miss Lincoln has always been ready to assist her, and so has Miss Smith. As long as the partiality extended only to French, I was willing to put up with it, but to be cheated out of my just dues by a poor relation—a dependent upon my father's bounty."

"Charlotte Merton, hold your peace!" said Mrs. Granger, in her very sternest tone of authority, before which the boldest rebel quailed. "Your conduct is disgraceful in the extreme. In charging Miss Lincoln with favoritism, you at once insult me, and make an accusation which you can not sustain, for I venture to say that there is not another girl in the class, beside yourself and Olive, who is the least surprised at the result. As for your saying that Olive has cheated you, the very fact of her coming here at once to ascertain whether there was not a mistake—to say nothing of her established character for purity and honor—gives the lie to that assertion.

"For shame, young lady! Have you so little magnanimity that though you have taken two premiums yourself, you grudge your cousin another, besides taunting her with her misfortunes? I am very much disappointed in you, Charlotte! I knew your temper was in many respects faulty, but I never saw any littleness in you before. No, Olive, my dear, there is no mistake about the prize. You have fairly earned it, and we all rejoice that your efforts have been crowned with success. Yet I venture to say that the honor has not been your object in these efforts—is it not so?"

"Yes ma'am," replied Olive, whose first indignation against Charlotte had subsided into something like pity. "I hardly thought at all of taking the prize. I had another object in view."

"I think I partly guess what that object is," said Mrs. Granger, "and if you choose, you shall tell me this evening, when I shall be at leisure. Come, Charlotte, I am sure you must regret your hasty words and unjust suspicions. Let me see you give your cousin your hand, and say so."

"If you think Olive has been perfectly fair, and she says so, Mrs. Granger, I am willing to believe it," replied Charlotte, who began, in truth, to see that she was not appearing to advantage. "I confess I was hasty, Olive," she added, offering her hand. "I hope you will forget what I said. No doubt you are perfectly entitled to the prize."

Olive took the hand, and offered a kiss in return, which was accepted, and the two cousins went down-stairs, and entered the school-room together, with an appearance of more cordiality than was usual with them.

Some of the girls were glad to see it, others wondered, and many prophesied that it would not last long. In this they were so far mistaken, that it lasted all next day, and through the journey home; for Charlotte had become more and more sensible that her anger at losing the prize would very naturally be attributed to envy at her cousin's success, and she had at the bottom of her heart a great respect for Olive's good opinion.

Before they left school, Olive had laid open all her plans and desires to Mrs. Granger, and received that lady's cordial approval. Mrs. Granger furnished her all the assistance in her power towards obtaining a situation whenever she should desire it, but strenuously advised her to spend another half-year in school, more, she was pleased to say, to acquire the routine of school business, than to add to her accomplished merits.

Owing to a slight accident, the girls did not arrive at home until so late an hour of the night that they could think of nothing except taking a hearty supper and going directly to bed. The next morning, however, the whole subject was brought up by the usual inquiry about prizes.

"Olive and I have changed this time," remarked Charlotte, with tolerable good humor. "She has carried off the mathematical honors, and left the French to me."

"Olive taken the mathematical prizes!" said aunt Rebecca, with evident astonishment. "I thought you always reckoned upon that with certainty, Charlotte, and I see your French is only second. How does it happen, Olive, you have taken such a sudden start?"

"I don't know, aunt, unless it is because I have studied harder than usual," replied Olive, coloring a little under her aunt's scrutinising glance.

"I suppose you have taken the first French, too," continued Mrs. Merton. "Really you have come home covered with honors."

"Maria Grey took the first French," said Abby, who had heretofore been occupied in slyly feeding the cat under the table. "Olive has given more time to algebra and Latin than to any thing else this term."

"Why was that, Olive?" asked Mrs. Merton, rather sharply.

"Olive has been quite mysterious about the matter," Charlotte remarked, unable to resist the temptation to tease her cousin a little. "She has assured us that she had another object in view besides the mere writing-desk. I believe Mrs. Granger is in the secret, but Abby and myself are shut out."

"Speak for yourself," interrupted Abby, gayly. "You think I never can know any thing without telling or it, but you are mistaken for once; I have known it all along."

"I do not approve of secrets," said Mrs. Merton, looking a good deal displeased. "I can not conceive of any good motive Olive could have for concealment in this case, I am sure."

"I believe I am in this mighty secret, eh, Olive?" said Mr. Merton, smilingly.

"Yes, uncle," replied Olive, glad of her uncle's protection. "You know more about it than any one."

Mrs. Merton waited in dignified silence. Mr. Merton helped himself to another piece of toast, buttered it, took a hot egg, and breaking it, said, quietly:

"The reasons that Olive has been so earnestly devoting herself to mathematics this term are, first, that she felt she had neglected them before; and secondly, because she has, as I understand, made up her mind to engage in teaching, as soon as she leaves school, and she justly thinks that this branch is a very important one to her success."

"In teaching!" exclaimed Charlotte.

And then there was an awful silence. Olive dared not look up. She felt her aunt's glance of offended majesty fastened upon her. She knew if she met it, she should certainly either laugh or cry, and she did not want to do either.

Abby's head was down under the table to look after the cat; and if it was Minny that mewed, her voice sounded uncommonly like a giggle.

At last Mrs. Merton spoke:

"May I ask, Miss McHenry, what are the motives which have led to this extraordinary decision? Do you not consider that you have been well-treated in this house?"

"No, aunt," replied Olive, meekly.

"Then, permit me to ask, once more, why you wish to quit us, and engage in the occupation of 'teaching?'" with an emphasis upon the word, as though Olive had proposed to engage in the occupation of street-cleaning.

"Because I do not wish to be dependent any longer, aunt Rebecca," replied Olive at last, in a voice which trembled at first, but which gathered firmness as she proceeded. "You have been very kind to me, and I have never felt otherwise than grateful for it, but I would, rather earn my own living if I can."

"And how long has this precious project been in agitation?"

"I first thought of it at the beginning of last term," replied Olive. "I wrote to uncle upon the subject immediately, and as he did not disapprove, I considered myself at liberty to entertain the idea."

Mrs. Merton turned to her husband: "Do you mean to say, Mr. Merton, that this young lady is aided and abetted by you in this matter?"

"Why, yes; I must say that I thought the idea a good one," replied Mr. Merton deliberately. "Olive has talents, and a good education, and if she is willing, for the sake of independence, to undergo the labor of teaching, she has my full consent to try the experiment, at the same time that she knows she is as welcome as possible to stay here, and make our house her home for life, or until she gets a home of her own."

"Thank you, uncle," replied Olive warmly.

Mrs. Merton leaned back in her chair. "I have no more to say," she remarked in a resigned tone of voice; "I really can say no more. I have always feared, from Olive's extreme resemblance to her father, that some of his peculiarities might appear in her. But I hoped a good education might overcome the advantages of a low origin. I see it was in vain."

"Aunt," said Olive, with some indignation in her tone, "you have no right to speak so of my father. Whatever may have been his birth, he was an honest and honorable man, and deserve nothing but good of any one. His losses of property might have come from error in judgment, but no one ever accused him of one speck of dishonesty or selfishness. My dear mother always spoke of him as the kindest of men; and my own recollections of him tell me the same thing. You are welcome to say what you please to me, but spare my father's memory."

"You are right, Olive," said her uncle, gravely. "Your father was one of the most honorable of men; and if his birth was not high, it was honest, and such as no republican need be ashamed of. But we will drop this subject for the present. And you, 'my little dunce,'" he added, turning round to Abby, "what are you going to do?"

"Stay at home and play for you, uncle," replied Abby, returning her uncle's pull of the hair by a most impish pinch. "You don't know how much new music I have learned since I was at home last. I took the first prize."

"I hope that you, Abby, are going to appreciate the advantages of your position sufficiently to remain at home," said aunt Rebecca with dignity. "I hope you will display more sense than to go running away after some Quixotic idea of independence."

"I am quite ready to stay here as long as you want to keep me, aunt," returned Abby lightly. "It would be nice to be independent, I dare say, but it would be quite too much trouble for me."

If the look Charlotte turned upon her cousin was one of contempt, it was quite lost upon Abby, who, having fed the cat with all that remained upon her own plate, was slyly abstracting morsels from her uncle's, when her aunt put a stop to the process by rising from the table.

All day long, Mrs. Merton showed her displeasure, by treating Olive with marked coldness, and bestowing an extra amount of petting upon Abby and Charlotte.

Abby took it very quietly, as she was accustomed to do all her aunt's moods, but Charlotte rather withdrew from it. She felt very uncomfortably. She could not help being aware, now that there was a prospect of losing it, how much she valued Olive's society, and many of the expressions which she had been in the habit of using towards her cousin came back to her mind with unpleasant force. She respected Olive's decision, and felt that, in similar circumstances, she herself would have done the same. And yet, this very respect made her feel annoyed with herself for according, and with Olive for deserving it.

At last, as they were sitting together in the twilight, Charlotte broke out abruptly: "Olive, I am glad you are going away, and yet I am sorry."

"How can you be both?" asked Olive, rousing herself from a reverie.

"I am sorry we are going to lose your society," replied Charlotte. "And I am glad you are going to be more pleasantly situated, and that you prefer working for yourself to being supported by others."

"I should always have preferred it, if I could have seen my way clear," said Olive, coloring little. "I only hope I may be able at some time to repay uncle for what he has spent on my education."

"You need not think of that. I am sure he considers himself more than repaid for any thing he has done for you. But we shall all miss you very much. I am sure I shall for one."

"I never imagined that," said Olive. "I really supposed you would be glad to have me out of the way."

"That is a great mistake," replied Charlotte. "I have always been attached to you."

"You have taken a strange way of showing it, I must say," remarked Olive, not without some bitterness. "I never could have guessed that you had any other feeling for me than dislike and jealousy."

Charlotte colored in her turn. "I can not blame you for thinking so," she said, "and yet it is not true. Jealous I confess I always have been, ever since you came here. I was prejudiced against you before, and I wanted something to justify me in it; so I tried to believe that you were ungrateful, and that you wanted to injure me in my father's esteem. But I could not really dislike you, though I tried very hard, and though I gave you just cause for disliking me. Come, shall we let by-gones be by-gones, and try to have fair play for the future?"

As she spoke, she sat down by Olive, and laid her hand on her shoulder, a wonderfully near approach to a caress for her.

"Very willingly, I am sure," replied Olive, returning the movement by a much warmer one. "I can not bear to think that any one dislikes me, and I have often wished that we could agree better. It will be much pleasanter being in school as friends than as foes."

"But I am not to return to school," said Charlotte. "Have you not heard? Mother means that Abby and I should stay at home this winter. She says we can have music and Italian masters here, and she wants to have us go out a little. So if you go back, it will be alone."

"But why Abby?" asked Olive in surprise. "I do not wonder that she wants you at home, but certainly Abby would bear a good deal of education still, though I fear the poor child will never be a wonderful scholar in any thing but music. You must allow, Charlotte, that she plays and sings splendidly."

"Better than any one else I ever heard, of her age," replied Charlotte; "and that is one reason why mother wants her at home. She says her musical talents and graceful manners will make such a sensation that it's a shame they should be lost to the world any longer, and besides," she added, laughing, "I suspect she thinks it will be very becoming for a fair belle and a dark belle to come out together."

Abby, be it remarked, was brilliantly fair, with an immense profusion of wavy hair, of a peculiar paly-gold tint. Charlotte, on the contrary, was dark, with a good deal of color, and with hair, eyes, and eyelashes all of an intense blackness. Olive was rather pale, inclining to be sallow, and her hair, though excellent in quality and quantity, was of a dull, unreflecting brown. Her only really beautiful features were her eyes, which were of a dark-gray, with long black lashes, and even, level eyebrows—a trifle too heavy for the rest of her face. Olive could not be called pretty, which might be one reason that she did not stand as high in her aunt's favor, as her eminently beautiful sister.

"Does Abby know of this arrangement?" asked Olive.