CHAPTER XIX. THE LOVE THAT PASSETH KNOWLEDGE.
There are certain people born into the world, apparently quiet and unassuming, really modest and without any apparent self-confidence, who yet manage to rule all those with whom they come in contact. There are not many of these gracious souls, but they dawn now and then on the world and little Maureen O'Brien happened to be one of these lovely and most gracious personalities. Her agony, untold, unspeakable, when she forgot herself and gave way to what she, poor little love, thought sin of the deepest dye, has been fully described. Afterwards she saw the Face of her loving Father again, her Heavenly Father. The Good Angels came back to her, the Bad Angels departed, and she was as busy as the busiest honey-bee in making arrangements for all possible wants of those people whom she considered her own.
It was unspeakably strange how a little girl like Maureen could influence a great manly boy like Dominic, but it was much stranger how she could compel the Rector and the Colonel to follow her will. She did it with such extreme gentleness that she contrived to make both these men feel that it was their own desire, that they themselves personally had longed for this arrangement. "Dear Colonel" cheered up and clapped his hands as he discussed their foreign tour with the Rector. The Rector declared that it was the unspoken dream of his life to see these lovely places. The Colonel happened to know the very young man who could come to Templemore as locum tenens; in fact the matter was arranged from end to end before these two elderly men parted that night; and Maureen stood by, smiling gently at both, and never uttering a syllable. It was to be their idea; it was their idea. This is the fashion of the Maureens of the world.
"Dominic would of course go to Rugby; why, whatever should prevent the lad?" cried the Colonel, "when I have been panting for the Italian lakes, and to go from there on to the Riviera, and only waiting because I couldn't get a friend like yourself to come with me, old man."
"And I," replied the Rector, "have dreamed of those places full of glory, but I never thought to see them."
"You'll see them now with a vengeance," said the Colonel; "and we have no time to spare. Tom Fagan—first rate chap, Tom—can take on the duties of your parish at once. You may as well come back with me to Rathclaren when I call for you to-morrow after Maureen has gone."
"Ah, my little Maureen," said the Rector.
He looked at the child with his eyes full of sympathy, but she saw well enough, for the time at least, that she was no longer first with him. The Grand Tour came first. The dream of his life, about to be realised at long last, was first for the time being. So little Maureen went off with a light heart on the following morning.
Pegeen, it is true, cried a good deal, but the Rector did not cry. His eyes were bright with renewed health. Burke also looked very mournful; but they both promised the little girl to do their utmost for Mr. Fagan, God bless him, "and they would kape the ould house like a new pin, God bless it!"
So Maureen went away. Her heart was indeed like a feather. Dominic was very near chortling in his joy; Dominic had read well enough how cleverly, how marvellously Maureen had managed.
"Upon my word," he said, "I don't know myself, little mate; I can be a Rugby boy with an easy mind after all."
"Of course you can, Dom, and be sure you write to me. Dear Colonel has promised to write from every place they stop at—if it is only a picture-card—and Uncle says he will write on Sundays. Oh, Dom, don't they look happy, dear old men."
"They're 'chortling,' if you like," replied Dominic.
So the boy and girl started on their journey. They crossed from Rosslair to Fishguard, and then took train to London. Dominic was very anxious to spend one night in London, but Maureen would not allow this.
"No," she said, "no. They are crying for me very hard. We'll go straight on."
"Who in the world are crying for you, asthore?"
"Why, those two poor weans. It is lovely to be wanted," said Maureen.
"I thought you——" began Dominic.
"Don't say the words, Dom. For a short and most awful time there was a wicked Spirit in me, but he died at the bottom of the Peak of Desolation, and in his place there entered"—Maureen's eyes, lovely indeed now, were fixed on her companion—"the Angel of all Charity, of all Forgiveness, of Love, Love Divine. Don't let's talk any more, Dom. I'm sleepy."
She curled up close to her cousin-brother, and with her head on his shoulder dropped asleep.
How it so happened that things were not going on at all well in Felicity. Hitherto, Jane Faithful, by the aid of Miss Pinchin and some other choice teachers, had managed her little flock with, on the whole, marked success. But the Mostyns were different from any other girls who had ever come to Felicity. The Mostyns were hopelessly rebellious. The Mostyns, after the first couple of days, began to break rules and defy punishment. Miss Pinchin, clever and stern as she was, became almost afraid of the girl who had all but poisoned the horse, while Henrietta spent her entire nights in screaming, shrieking, and crying.
Daisy at last became dull and stupid, but Henrietta was decidedly reckless. She managed to get out of her small window and to sit on the extremely narrow ledge and dangle her feet in the air and shout to each girl who passed, "Hullo! who are you? I'm Henny-penny, and I'm in prison for nothing at all."
Then there came a day when Daisy refused to get up. She said it was not worth while. Her face had a terribly dull and vacant expression. Henny in despair pulled her out of bed, but she dropped in a dead, senseless lump on the floor. She had really fainted. Then Henny got out again on to the window ledge in her nightdress and, poised on this dangerous spot, shrieked the information to all who could hear that Daisy 'was kilt entirely,' and that Faithful had better send for a doctor or she would hang by the neck until she died.
This terrible information brought Dawson with Miss Pinchin, and last, but by no means least, Jane Faithful, on the scene. The girl, Daisy, was lying in a dead heap on the floor.
"I'd have put her back in bed," said Henny, "but she's too heavy. One of ye cruel ones catch her by the legs, and the other lift her round the shoulders. She's dead as sure as I'm alive. Nice sort of school this to send respectable girls to!"
"Oh, my dears, my dears," said poor Mrs. Faithful. She was in many ways a severe woman, but she had a truly kind heart. She bent over the white, unconscious girl and asked Miss Pinchin in a decidedly angry voice what she could have done to bring the girl to that pass.
"I can't manage her," replied Miss Pinchin. "I will own it to you, dearest friend. Daisy Mostyn and her sister are the first two occupants of this happy school whom I have failed to train. Henrietta is a trifle easier to manage than her sister, but Daisy will not eat nor speak. I have tried severity; I have tried everything."
"Have you tried kindness?" asked Mrs. Faithful.
"Kindness!" said Miss Pinchin. "Kindness in the Hall of Discipline?"
"Ah," said Jane Faithful, "even there. It's an ennobling influence. You have indeed failed, Joan Pinchin. Henrietta, get dressed at once and come with me."
"No; I don't intend to leave my sister," said Henrietta.
"Well, stay where you are and I will have your breakfast sent up to you, but I must see immediately about getting a doctor for this poor little girl. I trusted her to you, Joan Pinchin. I never saw such a change in any face."
"She's dying, if you want to know," said Henrietta. "She's going pop, like poor mumsie did. You won't catch me leaving her; only I would like to see you, old Faithful, whipping that horrid Pinchin."
"Don't talk in such an intemperate way, Henrietta. Joan, come with me. Dawson, I will send Annie Anderson to look after these children, and you will have the goodness to put on your bonnet and cloak without a moment's delay and fetch Dr. Halsted."
"Oh my word!" gasped Dawson; but Mrs. Faithful was one to be obeyed.
Joan Pinchin and Dawson left the room, and almost at the same moment a rosy-cheeked girl, with blue eyes, and golden hair twined round her head, entered the Chamber of Penitence. Her hair, her eyes, her complexion, made her look all sunshine. She was dressed in the garb of a nurse, very simply and neatly.
"Oh, poor, poor little one," she said. "Miss Henrietta, you must get your clothes on, or you'll catch your death of cold."
"But that's what I want," said Henrietta. "I'm sick of life!"
"Oh my dear, you oughtn't to say that. Think of our dear, dear Mrs. Faithful."
"Upon my word, she's not dear to me," said Henrietta. "But I rather take to you; and it was perfectly lovely to hear her pounding it into old Pinchin, and that abominable Dawson. Why, Dawson simply dripped tears as she went away. What is your name, Goldilocks?"
"I'm called Nurse Annie, dear."
"Do you think my sister will die?"
"I hope not, dear; but you certainly will, unless you put on some more clothes than your nightdress."
"Well," said Henny-penny after a pause, "I suppose I may as well rig myself out. I feel somehow as though there was going to be a bit of fun again—only what an ugly uniform they do wear in this school, Goldilocks! I had glorious hair, much handsomer than yours. It was the colour of the sunset, and they cut it all off, and pomatumed it."
"What a pity!" said Nurse Annie; "but it will grow again, my dear."
"Did you really say 'what a pity!'? Then I quite like you. I'll dress like a flash of greased lightning. It doesn't matter about washing, does it? For I know I'll be crying most of the day."
"Now, my dear, you won't be so silly, for it will be bad for your sister."
"Oh, Daisy, she's as good as gone," said Henrietta. "She was taken sudden, like poor mumsie. She was a nice little thing, and the imp of mischief. Pinchin and Dawson and the barber killed her. Whatever you may say about the woman called Faithful, she had a hand in that pie."
"Dress yourself now and stop talking," said Nurse Annie. "There is plenty of cold water in that jug and you really must wash, for your face is such a show."
"To be sure now, is it, at all, at all? I don't like being a holy show. People like me best when I am pretty. Mumsie used to say I was a very handsome girl."
"You are quite decent-looking now," said the nurse, "if only you wouldn't talk so much, and would begin your washing and dressing before the doctor arrives. As to your sister, she is no more dead than I am. See, her eyes are wide open; she is looking at you. She only fainted, poor little dear."
"Oh, get out of my way; let me hug her," said Henny. "Daisy—Dysy—give me your answer do!"
"Young lady, you are not to go near your sister. She is much too weak."
Daisy certainly gave a very weak, wondering smile.
"Where am I?" she said. "Who is this? Oh, I'm not good, so it can't be heaven. Where am I?"
"Have this wee sip of brandy and water, my dear," said Nurse Annie. She combed out the girl's stiff locks, stiff from the effects of the odious pomatum.
Henrietta started for a minute, then she dashed cold water out of a large enamel jug into a large enamel basin, and proceeded to duck her head and face in.
"The horrid stuff won't come off," she said.
"I'll get it off for you presently, if you are a good girl," said Nurse Annie. "Now get on with your dressing."
Henrietta flew into her hideous clothes. In less than a quarter of an hour there came a tap at the Chamber of Penitence, and a grave, elderly woman, whom Nurse Annie addressed as Dinah, laid a tray full of all kinds of good things on the dressing-table.
Here was coffee worth drinking; here were rolls and new-laid eggs, butter, and cream and jam.
Henny fell upon the food like a little wolf. Nurse Annie tried to coax Daisy to eat, but she only shook her weak little head and rejected all offers of nourishment.
Henny felt wonderfully refreshed by the time Dr. Halsted arrived. He was a young-looking man of between thirty and forty years of age. He had keen, grey eyes, a clever, clean-shaven face, and dark hair cut very short and mixed with grey. He did not take the least notice of Henny, but devoted himself to Daisy. He examined the girl most carefully, took her temperature, felt her pulse, did all the usual things, then said she was suffering from shock and must be sent immediately into the school hospital or infirmary, which at that time happened to be empty. Nurse Annie must look after her day and night until he got a second nurse to relieve her. He would send one in as soon as possible.
Nurse Annie knew her post too well to trouble the doctor with questions, and his own directions were extremely simple. The girl was to be kept absolutely quiet. She was not to be allowed to talk to anyone. He would send in a temperature chart and her temperature was to be taken every four hours; then Dr. Halsted, without even glancing at Henny, who thought herself attractive with her freshly washed face, left the room and went down to speak to Mrs. Faithful.
"That little girl is very ill," he said. "I cannot imagine what is the matter with her. I don't apprehend anything infectious. It strikes me she is suffering pretty considerably from what is called 'shock.' When did she come to your admirable school, dear madam?"
"Nearly a week ago," replied Mrs. Faithful. "Her step-father brought both her and her sister. She certainly had been exceedingly naughty, and I felt obliged to put her under Miss Pinchin's care. Miss Pinchin, as a rule, manages extremely naughty girls perfectly, but she has not contrived well either for this poor child or her sister."
"Oh, there are two of them."
"Yes; the other has red hair. I did not wish to take the girls at all. The one with red hair was in the room whilst you were examining your patient. But my cousin and friend, Mr. O'Brien, begged of me to do what I could for these girls, who are his step-daughters. I promised on a condition, and am waiting anxiously to know if this condition will be fulfilled, otherwise, as soon as ever the girl is well, she will have to leave the school."
"If ever she gets well," said Dr. Halsted.
"Oh, doctor, you don't think so badly of her as all that?"
"But I do. To start with, she has little or no constitution, and, whatever naughtiness she has committed, she has deliberately starved herself. I'm afraid your governess-assistant was too severe. Of course I'll do my best for the girl, and come again in the middle of the day. By the way, I must send in another nurse—two if you like—for she is likely to be highly delirious. Meanwhile Nurse Annie will look after her. She cannot be moved into the infirmary until a good fire is lighted and the room made fresh and snug. That was not a nice bedroom she and her sister were in. I propose to change everything. Your infirmary is always charming. Have a few flowers about, but not those that smell. Put the bed so that she can see out of the window if she feels inclined, and have soft green blinds, which I know you possess, put up to all the windows in the room. I by no means give up hope, Mrs. Faithful, but the case is very serious."
The doctor went on his way and in that house of absolute order, of absolute peace, there was, for the time at least, considerable excitement.
Poor Miss Pinchin cried her small beady eyes out of her head. Dawson felt thoroughly offended, but Mrs. Faithful was the sort of woman who, when she took the reins, took them with a will. How she did long for the little girl the Rector had spoken of! The week was very nearly up, and she had not had a line. Still she had great faith in the Rector, and was certain Maureen would come, or a message would arrive, before the week was quite up. Then she ordered her servants. She set her schoolgirls to their tasks, and with her own hands helped to get the Infirmary into absolute order.
She also had a fire lit in the Chamber of Peace, that room which she so hoped Maureen would occupy.
The Infirmary was soon quite ready. It was a spacious apartment, with no ornaments of any kind, and a highly polished floor. A little white bed was arranged near the window with the prettiest view, but all the windows now on this hot day were rendered cool and soothing by soft green blinds. Then Daisy was most carefully wrapped up and carried into the Infirmary. The poor child was absolutely unconscious. Henny followed her, sobbing loudly.
"Henrietta, dear," said Mrs. Faithful, "I cannot allow you to stay with your sister while you make this distressing noise; and whatever have they done to your head, my child?"
"It was that beast of a Pinchin," said Henrietta. "She ordered the barber woman to put a sort of glue on my head, so that I shouldn't have any curls."
"Poor little girl; but we can soon set that right. You see Nurse Annie has already got your sister's hair into a little order. How we will attend to yours. I think, dear, Miss Pinchin overstepped her duties; but I must not complain. She meant well. That special pomatum is hardly ever used, although I wish some of my naughtiest girls to have their hair short."
"And am I one of your naughtiest?"
"Oh yes, Henrietta, quite."
"And Daisy?"
"Poor Daisy; we won't talk of her now. Come! you would like to get your curls back."
If Henrietta had a passion in this world, it was for her red curls, and even short curls were better than none at all. Mrs. Faithful put the girl into the care of the same kind-looking woman who had brought up her breakfast.
"Dinah," she said, "do what you can for Miss Henrietta. Get all that sticky stuff out of her hair, and keep her with you afterwards, Dinah. I shall have a little room prepared for her to-night to sleep in next my own."
"The Chamber of Love, madam?"
"Yes, Dinah, that is the room."
"Well, of all the wonderful things," muttered Dinah. "Come, Henrietta."
So Henrietta went obediently, and the sticky stuff was removed from her hair, which, released from its bondage, curled and fuzzed all over her head.
She looked at herself in the glass, and instantly skipped and danced for joy.
"Hurrah, hurrah," she said. "Dinah, old duck, I must hug you."
Dinah was decidedly prim and a Quaker. She said, "Thee wilt keep thy praises and thy embraces for those who require them. For me, I like not to be embraced."
"Oh, what a horrid house," said Henrietta, "but anyhow I've got my curls back. Now, Dinah, I won't hug you if you don't like it; but can I see Pinchin? I'm just dying to smack her."
"My dear, control those evil feelings. Joan Pinchin has been sorely tried, and has gone away for a week's holiday. Now, thee wilt be a good maid and follow me to my room, where I employ my time in making the school uniforms. Thou and I will dine there together. I have ordered a refreshing and serviceable meal."
"Upon my word, I am peckish," said Henny. "I'll gobble, I can tell you."