The Little School-Mothers

“Oh, Harriet!”

“Well, my dear; you needn’t go on like that. The bough dipped lower and lower, and Ralph, he is not a bit frightened – you know he never was, he is as plucky as his father. I did feel inclined to say, ‘oh, do go back, Ralph – ’”

“And you didn’t say the words, Harriet?”

“No, no; you goose, I didn’t; well, anyhow, he tumbled into the water where it was pretty deep too; and he would have sunk, poor little man, for there are such a lot of weeds about just there – only of course I was close by, and I rushed down to the edge of the pond and flung myself in, and swam out to him. I saved him – oh, it was quite easy; he was not even unconscious when I got him out of the water; only of course we were both drenched to the skin.”

“I don’t understand,” said Jane. “It seemed a horrid mean thing to do, and you speak as though it was something fine.”

“Ralph thinks it awfully fine. You see, he takes it in this way. He thinks he tried to get the lilies for me at the risk of his life.”

“That’s true enough,” said Jane.

“And that I saved him at the risk of mine.”

“Which is not a bit true,” said Jane, “for you can swim like a duck anywhere.”

“Ah, but Ralph does not know that, and there is no one who will dare to tell him. We both got ill afterwards, and I was more ill than Ralph, because I was longer in my dripping wet clothes; and now Ralph loves me much, much better than Robina, for you see I saved his life.”

“Oh! I think you are a horrid girl!” said Jane.

“Do you? do you? Well, perhaps you won’t think me quite so horrid when I get you invited here, say, for Christmas, and when we have a jolly, jolly time, with that old Mr Durrant safe in Africa and Ralph just obliged to put up with us. I’ll always be good to him, you may be sure of that, but I shan’t molly-coddle him: I’ll look after number one, see if I don’t.”

“All the same,” said Jane, “Robina is the one who will be invited to take care of Ralph, and you haven’t a chance.”

“I know better,” said Harriet. “I have my own plans. You will have to help me, for if you don’t, I won’t give you that five pounds that my god-mother allows me on each of my birthdays.”

“Five pounds!” said Jane, with a gasp.

“Yes; if I am allowed to stay as Ralph’s companion, I will give you that money this year. Think what that will mean.”

Jane was absolutely silent. The girls went away from under the shadow of the thick plantation, and walked like any other innocent little pair in the sunshine. Robina, after a long time, crept out of her hammock and went to the house. She had a dreadful feeling at her heart. She must be alone. She reached her bedroom and locked herself in.

Book Two – Chapter Ten

Harriet Pleads

Half an hour afterwards, Robina went downstairs. It was a perfect summer’s afternoon. She felt she could not stand the house. She went out. The great heat of the day was over. The stars were beginning to come out in the sky. They could hardly be seen as yet for there was too much light, but by-and-by they would shine brilliantly.

Robina raised her head to the sky, and wondered in a vague, girlish sort of fashion what sort of life it was up there, and if God really understood people, and if, in God’s other worlds, things were right, not wrong. She felt depressed as she had never been depressed before.

Ralph was playing eagerly with the three Amberleys. He looked a bonny, happy little boy. The rich colour had returned to his cheeks, he had lost that slight look of delicacy which had characterised him for a short time after his illness.

His illness! Robina knew about it now. She had guessed about it before, but now, she knew. Those wet clothes which the maid servant had shown her, were explained. The feverish chill which both Ralph and Harriet had suffered from was also explained. Everything was made clear to Robina. She felt herself almost shuddering. Such wickedness! such deceit! such a deeply laid plot to steal the affections of one little boy seemed too horrible to poor Robina! She felt she could scarcely go on in her present position.

“Harriet is too clever for me,” she thought. “I ought to tell Mr Durrant that I listened: I ought to explain to him what really happened. Oh, what – what am I to do! Ralph of course loves Harriet best now. He naturally thinks her conduct heroic. He is the sort of boy to be enraptured with a deed of that sort; and she did it all on purpose – on purpose – and just to win his love from me. Oh, how am I to bear it! Why did I ever know Ralph? Why was I ever sent to school? I was happy enough at home. There were troubles, of course. There was poor Aunt Felicia, and there was mother – darling mother, who never did understand me, much as I cared for her. But all the same, compared to this life, things were peaceful enough.”

“Hullo, Robina!” said a voice at that moment. “A penny for your thoughts, my dear!”

Robina turned swiftly. Her honest grey eyes flashed, then grew a little dim. Mr Durrant came up to her.

“Do you want to walk about with me for a little, my child, or would you rather I left you by yourself?”

“I will walk with you, of course,” said Robina – “that is, if you care to be with me. But,” she added, “I am not a good companion to-night.”

“And why not? is anything wrong?”

“There is something wrong, and I cannot tell it you. Please don’t ask me.”

“Of course I won’t, my dear girl. In a little company of this sort there are sure to be small jars, but what I feel about your character is this – that there is nothing mean about you. You naturally have your faults. I could imagine, for instance, that you were exceedingly high-spirited – too high-spirited at times. I could also imagine that you yourself needed a little discipline in life.”

“I do,” said Robina, suddenly. “I need everything – every sort of training. You don’t know, you can’t realise, what a wild sort of heart I have. It seems to be too difficult at times to control. I thought when I was at school, and when I was given the charge of Ralph, and when I won that dear pony, that I could never know unhappiness again; and then when you asked me here, I felt sure that I could never know unhappiness again.”

“And you did know it once again?” said Mr Durrant, looking kindly and yet with anxiety at the girl.

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head, and tears filling her eyes as she turned away.

“Listen to me, Robina. There are some things about you that appeal to me very forcibly. I know you are not perfect. I have been to your home and have heard the opinion of your father and aunt, and of your mother with regard to you. They have given their true opinions. Your father admires those things in you which try your mother and aunt very much. But I, my dear child, take you on my own valuation. I see in you one inestimable quality. I do not believe under any circumstances you would tell me a lie. That, to me, is the unpardonable sin. A girl who could do anything deceitful would be an impossible companion for my little Ralph. I do not believe you would be that.”

Robina was quite silent. Her silence, and the extreme moodiness of her appearance, rather surprised Mr Durrant.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “if I am to be able to carry out my plan, which I am exceedingly desirous to do, I shall have to choose between you and Harriet as a companion for my little boy. All my inclinations tend towards you, Robina; but, on the other hand, I have been speaking to Ralph, and Ralph seems to wish me to choose Harriet as his school-mother during the year of my absence. Now the wishes of so young a child cannot altogether guide me in this matter, and I do not mean to come to a decision for at least a week on the subject. During that time, I shall watch you both – not obtrusively in any way, but still with a keen observation, for a great deal depends on the choice which I am forced to make. I am, to tell you the truth, a good deal puzzled at Ralph’s preference for Harriet, and feel, without being able to lay my hand on the mystery, that there is a mystery with regard to it, and that Harriet has a power over him which I am not permitted to know anything about.”

Mr Durrant paused and looked at Robina. She was quite silent.

“It would,” said the traveller, after a long pause, “be a very, very serious thing – in fact, it would be exceedingly wrong for me to entrust my boy to the companionship of a girl who was not truthful, who had the elements of deceit in her composition; and I do beseech of you, Robina, not to consider yourself in the matter, but if you know anything against Harriet, to confide that something to me.”

“You must not ask me,” said Robina, suddenly. “I do not say I know anything; she is my school companion. She is clever; she is not cleverer than I am, but she is undoubtedly clever. You never can tell why a person cares for another. Ralph was fond of Harriet when he was at school, then he turned to me because poor Harriet was tempted to take him away to visit a friend of hers – but you know all about that story.”

“Yes, I know all about it, and about poor Harriet’s subsequent repentance. The incident has, therefore, quite faded from my mind, and cannot influence me in my present decision in the very least.”

“Of course not,” said Robina. “Well, I cannot tell you any more.”

“I am much puzzled,” said Mr Durrant, “and your manner to-night is the reverse of reassuring.” He left Robina a few minutes afterwards, and she walked by herself for a short time. She was just going back to the house when a hand was laid on her arm, and a girl looked eagerly into her face.

“So you were talking to him?”

“What do you mean?” said Robina. She almost flung Harriet’s hand aside.

“I have discovered something,” said Harriet. Harriet’s face was absolutely white. It looked curious and almost dreadful in the light caused by the moon which was now rising. “It was Jane who found out,” she said. “You were in the hammock all the time. You heard us; you listened; you are an eavesdropper. Have you told Mr Durrant what I said to Jane?”

“No,” replied Robina, in a low tone.

“But you did listen?”

“I did: I was in the hammock. How did you find out?”

“We found your handkerchief on the ground when we were passing a few moments afterwards; and you left your book behind you. Your book was in the hammock; your handkerchief on the ground; you dare not deny it; you heard every word.”