Sir Roderick came on to the steps with joy in his face, to fold his daughter in his arms, and resume their relation without thought or question of the intervening time, or any idea that she had any thought of it. She yielded with a relief that was sapped at its roots by the impending doom. She served her parents’ pleasure and pride with the knowledge that her efforts would emerge as placing her in a false light. Maria saw something new in her, and spoke of it to Miss Petticott.
“The change seems to have brought out the best in her. Or is it the pleasure of being at home again? We should like to think it is that.”
“And I am going to think so, Lady Shelley. Especially as a still, small voice within me tells me that it is the truth.”
“I met rather a nice governess — mistress I suppose she is called — at the station,” said Maria, as though Miss Petticott’s presence prompted the recollection. “I think she takes Clemence’s form. I hope she will come to see us at some time.”
“Oh, I shall hear all about her, Lady Shelley. I shall not need to see her, to have a clear glimpse of her personality. Clemence is good at conjuring up characters for my benefit, and very entertaining I find it, especially when her little spice of mischief creeps in and leavens the whole.”
“You will always be the first and the foundation of them, Miss Petticoat,” said Sir Roderick, giving the word that was needed.
“I believe you think I am jealous, Sir Roderick. And, as you say, as you imply, it would hardly be possible without any cause.”
“School is the wrong thing for Clemence. She looks the worse for it. It has done her no more good than I expected. I shall take her away. I shall talk to Lesbia about it.”
“You will not do one thing, if you do the other,” said Maria.
“No, it would not be the best preliminary step,” said Miss Petticott, not disputing that some step might be taken.
“Then I shall think of another, or you shall do so for me. Between us we will outwit them,” said Sir Roderick, again not affecting to misunderstand.
“It is surely not my business to outwit anyone. Sir Roderick.”
“I might write a letter and say I will do what is best for my own child,” said Sir Roderick, his tone faltering over this extreme suggestion.
“Clemence, would you like to go back to school or to settle down at home again?” said Maria, later. “If the question arose, that is to say.”
Clemence looked at her mother with a flood of feeling surging into her face. Could connection with the school be broken before the report came? Might Lesbia be estranged and cancel her visit? Could the people who knew her secret pass in a moment from her life?
“It is a change that would have to happen at once, or not at all.”
“It could hardly come about in a moment. It would have to be considered and discussed. I wonder what Miss Fire-brace would say, and who would have the courage to ask her. Of course she will be here in a week.”
Clemence’s heart sank once more, and rose again almost in exaltation at her solitary confronting of the extreme thing.
“Oh, what did you think of the dress?” said Maria. “Was it what you wanted? You did not allow us much time.”
“Yes, it was just the thing. We have to dress for that party, silly though it seems, when only a few people come. It is a kind of unwritten law that is never broken. I only found it out at the last.”
“I thought you did not really want it. I should have had more pleasure in getting it, if I had thought you did. As it is, it was rather an expense, and will be very little good. Miss Petticott was afraid the muslin might fall short of their requirements.”
“Oh, I have my own knowledge of the ways of schoolmistresses, Lady Shelley. They are not alive to the realities of life as we normal mortals are. They live in their imaginary world, and draw their pupils into it.”
“I am going to draw one pupil out of it,” said Sir Roderick. “And I am sure I wish the world was imaginary.”
Clemence received her parents’ fondness at night as a thing undeserved and destined to emerge as such. She slept from exhaustion, and the waking in ease and joy was succeeded by the fall of hope. Oliver and Sefton were to return that day, and their presence would end her respite. Sefton’s innocence would reproach and isolate her, when her hour came.
Chapter IV
“I Hope I am not disturbing you at your luncheon, Mrs. Cassidy.”
“Thankyou, Miss James. It is so kind to cling to the hope.”
“Please do not get up. I will sit down, if I am to keep you standing.”
“I did not suggest it, because I thought you always stood.”
“You see me at prayers, Mrs. Cassidy, and everyone stands then.”
“Yes, of course; so reverent. I hope I look as other people do.”
“You look yourself, Mrs. Cassidy.”
“Yes, I was afraid of that.”
“I thought you might like to approve the hymns for the first week of the term.”
“I should like to, of course. I do like approving of things. It is disapproving of them that is disturbing. But is there anything about them to arouse approval? They make me feel uncomfortable and complacent and almost exalted, and that cannot be wholesome, and wholesomeness is important for boys.”
“We have chosen our usual one for the first night. I do not know if you remember it.”
“It will soon remind me of itself, and of many other things as well. Hymns do that more than anything, though it is supposed to be scents. And how independent of you to dare to be bound by custom! I knew we could rely on you.”
Miss James certainly looked as if people could do this, as she stood with her notebook in her hand. She was the matron of the school, and the only woman in it, and the second capacity seemed to transcend the first. Her dark hair was arranged so plainly that it seemed to need a more negative word; her features seemed to be impregnated with her expression; her clothes were so suitable that no one saw them, and her figure so thin that the same thing might be said.
“It celebrates our coming together from our different homes to face the spell of work before us.”
“But ought the boys to be reminded of those things? Ought we not to help them to shut their eyes to them?”
“The thoughts must be in their minds.”
“Of course, and so it is healthier to give voice to them. And hymns would lead to that.”
“I sometimes have a tiny suspicion, Mrs. Cassidy, that you are not quite serious.”
“And that is shocking about hymns. But I am quite.”
“Perhaps you would like to suggest a hymn yourself.”
“I believe that speech was made in a spirit of revenge; I mean I have a tiny suspicion of it. And I was to approve of the hymns, not suggest them, though if you approve of something, you may as well suggest it. Well, that hymn about the encircling gloom, and the night being dark and everyone far from home — that seems to cover the ground; and there is something about not asking to see the distant scene, that might be in place.”
“Is it not a little too pointed?”
“Of course it is, and your hymn has a merciful vagueness. You have the truer sympathy. And I was thinking it was myself. I am so ashamed.”
“You are not fair to yourself, Mrs. Cassidy.”
“I try to be. I think everyone does. And I hope I am sound at bottom. Being sound at the top would be more useful, but that seems too rare for us to hear of it.”
“I believe we are to have two members of your family with us this term.”
“I find it hard to believe. It seems so odd that our connections should trust us so far, after the glimpses they have had of us.”