‘We re-open next week with one hundred and fifty new pupils to fill our vacancies.’
She was glad to get back to Cheltenham, but those who knew her best saw that it was only by a stern effort of will that she nerved herself to begin her work in the ordinary way. They began to hope that she might not much longer be called upon to make what was visibly a tremendous effort. Nothing was left undone.
School began on September 22. Miss Beale, as usual on the first day of term, gave a short address after prayers to the assembled teachers and children. She spoke, as often before, of the parable of the Talents, but mainly of the joy of the Lord—the joy and reward of being fellow-workers with God. Strangely fitting did her words afterwards seem for the last time she addressed the College as a body.
In the month which followed only a few saw signs of the weakness and illness which had really begun. She had undertaken the usual courses of lectures, and missed none. The College numbers were very large, the life as full and vigorous as ever. There was even a new department started for the first time that term, in the arrangement—the revolution of Time’s wheel having been made—of courses of lessons in cookery.
On October 16 the annual Council meeting was held in London. In order to spare herself fatigue, Miss Beale did not as usual accompany Miss Alice Andrews to the Oxford meeting on the previous evening, but went up alone from Cheltenham the next morning. It meant a long day and an early start, earlier than ever before, as the time of departure had been altered. This Miss Beale only learned the same morning, but with her habit of being ready long beforehand she was able to catch the train. This, by the new arrangement, did not wait for the Oxford train by which Miss Andrews went up. Consequently, when Miss Andrews arrived at the Paddington Hotel, Miss Beale had already gone to see her doctor, Miss Aldrich-Blake. Probably she preferred to make this visit alone.
To Miss Aldrich-Blake she owned that she was tired, that she felt her much impaired hearing and sight to be a hindrance to work; but she made light of the malady which was her real and undefined dread. Miss Aldrich-Blake, however, advised an immediate operation, in spite of the annual general meeting fixed for November 16,[99] on account of which Miss Beale wished to put it off for the present. On leaving the doctor’s house Miss Beale went on alone to keep one or two appointments. At the Council meeting in the afternoon she showed no fatigue, but read her report with animation. Miss Andrews then joined her for St. Hilda’s committee meeting. They left this meeting in time to catch the afternoon train back to Cheltenham. Miss Beale generally slept for part of this journey; that day she was wakeful and tired, but she said nothing then to Miss Andrews of what the doctor had told her. She did, however, shortly tell Miss Rowand, who persuaded her to see Dr. Cardew. He confirmed Dr. Aldrich-Blake’s opinion, and Miss Beale then made up her mind to enter a nursing home, hard by the College, on Monday, October 22. During these intervening days she went on with her usual work, and silently made preparation for what might be a final parting from it. On Sunday, which she spent alone but for a visit from Fräulein Grzywacz, she wrote a large number of letters. One was to the Vice-Principal, Miss Sturge:—
‘I have been feeling very unwell since my return from Germany, and two doctors whom I have consulted say I must have a few weeks away. I am sorry to throw any of my work on others, but I thought the week in which our half-term holiday comes my absence would be less felt. Also, as the Bishop gives five lectures, these would take the place of mine on Saturdays.... I thought some one who has taught the Fairy Queen could take [my literature lesson]. The doctor who knows me best fixed three weeks as the date of my return.’
One to Miss Gore:—
‘I have not told any one but Miss Rowand the reason why I shall have to be absent, perhaps for a few weeks—perhaps for ever—from my beloved College. I want you to come and stay in the house till we see which way things will go. I hope you will manage to come, and that you will put on a cheerful countenance and not let any one suspect that there is so serious a cause for my absence. I am very grateful for having been allowed to do so many years of work, very grateful for the loyal and affectionate support of my colleagues and our Council, specially the Chairman. I think I feel content whichever way things may be ordered for me by Him who doth not willingly afflict, but chastens for our profit.—Yours affectionately,
D. Beale.’