The Village by the River

by H. Louisa Bedford

"Oh yes, mother; we'll see it through to the bitter end," said May, in an undertone. "There are seats in the front."

Mrs. Webster picked her way daintily through the crowd, and Mr. Lessing, who was seated at the end of one of the desks, stood up to let her pass. May's skirt caught against a nail, as she followed, and Paul bent to set it free; but as May turned smiling to thank him, it gave her a faint shock of surprise to read the dislike that found expression in his eyes. Her smile faded, and she passed on her way with a haughty little bow.

"I wonder why he hates me? I am not aware that any man has ever viewed me with honest dislike before," she thought, as she took her seat by her mother.

Paul, on his side, was inspired with the same unwilling admiration and active irritation as on the occasion of their first meeting at Brussels. Beautiful she undoubtedly was; so beautiful that his eyes unconsciously followed her every movement. The cordial greeting she accorded the rector—so different from her bow to himself,—and the poise of her head, as she turned to look at the rows of expectant faces behind her, giving a smiling nod to Mrs. Macdonald, who, duly impressed with the gravity of the occasion, sat by the side of her John with her hands clasping a clean pocket-handkerchief as if she were at church. Paul tried to define the cause of his annoyance as he looked at her.

"It is the hard crust of indifference which society people cultivate to such perfection; it's the assurance which beauty assumes. She has come here most probably in search of a new sensation," he thought.

But the rector, who sat on a platform at the end of the room, with his two churchwardens, was already on his feet, and Paul pocketed his annoyance and settled himself to listen.

"My friends," he began, "we have met to-night to consider on what basis our school shall be carried on; whether at this crisis in school affairs, which demands an outlay of some seven or eight hundred pounds, the voluntary system shall be continued; or whether it shall be turned into a board school, paid for out of the rates, and managed by a committee chosen by the votes of the people. It is not a question that it has been necessary for us to discuss before. My people, I believe to a man, have been content to entrust the education of their children, the practical management of the school, to the churchwardens and myself, supporting us by their voluntary subscriptions; but a murmur has reached our ears that some of you are dissatisfied with this arrangement. My churchwardens and I feel reluctant to retain the management of the school unless fully assured that we are fulfilling the wishes of the majority of the people. You one and all know my views on this subject, and the principle that I believe to be involved in your decision. Whichever scheme is followed will mean a considerable outlay of money. It is for you to decide whether that money shall be exacted from you by rate, or whether it shall be given freely and liberally out of the means with which God has blessed you."

The rector closed with a request that any one wishing to address the meeting would come up to the platform, and, in answer to the challenge, Paul Lessing walked up the room and took his stand before the people. He was clever, and gifted with readiness of speech, but something in the audience baffled him; whether it was the stolid imperturbability of the faces in the back benches, or May Webster's half-amused, half-scornful smile just below him, he could not decide. But he pulled himself together, determining to state his case as shortly and clearly as he could.

He expressed no doubt that in times past the school had been well and ably managed; but he reminded them that Government had seen fit to place in their hands a power which the people in country places were slow to recognize: that of exercising a control over the education of their children. That all authority on a subject so important should be vested in the hands of two or three men of the same way of thinking, seemed to him, at the best, a one-sided arrangement; surely it was more just that a committee of men should be chosen by the votes of the people, and that every form of thought should find its exponent—thus keeping the balance of opinion even. Much more he said, and said it ably, ending with a strong appeal that each one there present, unbiassed by any cry of party, should think out this subject for themselves, and consider whether he was doing the best for the place in which he lived by saying, that what had been should be and could not be improved; or whether he would make use of that power vested in him by Government, and should decide to let his voice, in the education of the future generation, find expression in that great and powerful development of modern times, a School Board.

Allison, forgetful of his fears about rates, murmured "Ooray!" as the squire resumed his seat; and the rector, thanking the squire for his able expression of his views, asked if there were any one else who would give them the benefit of his opinion. There was a long silence. It was hoped that Allison would have something to say and one and another gave him a friendly nudge, but the blacksmith was too wise to commit himself; he halted between two opinions. But there was a murmur of astonishment as Macdonald rose and, supporting his burly form against the wall, cleared his throat, and began to speak a little huskily.