Book II Chapter 16 The Little School-Mothers by L. T. Meade
Jane Confesses
At eleven o’clock sharp, all the girls, with the exception of Robina, were assembled in Mr Durrant’s study. He had asked them to meet him there, and they had come. Ralph was also present. The absence of Robina was noticed. The thought of Robina was in every heart, and the words: “Where is she? Can she really have gone away? Has she really told Mr Durrant?” were framing themselves on all lips. But the words were not uttered aloud, and the thoughts in the hearts were unspoken.
Mr Durrant looked very pale and grave. Amongst the girls who had entered the room was Jane Bush. But there was something extraordinary about Jane which Harriet—could she have time to think of anything at such a crucial moment except herself—must have remarked. In the first place Jane, who was never noticed at all by the older girls of the third form, was now practically in Patience Chetwold’s pocket. Frederica Chetwold was at her other side, and behind her were the three Amberleys. Jane’s face was terribly disfigured by crying, and she looked altogether a most woe-begone little spectacle.
Ralph was standing by his father’s side. He wore that very pretty little brown velveteen suit which made him look something between the prettiest of all brownies and the most beautiful of all boys. His eager, loving eyes travelled from one face to another. They fixed themselves for a minute on Jane with that world of sorrow in them which such eyes as his will always show when their sympathy is fully roused. For Ralph belonged to those heroes who take the sorrows of the world on their shoulders, and live for others, not for themselves. But on this occasion, even little Ralph was absorbed with the thought of what was to happen in the future; and then, he was missing Robina: he was finding out at each moment that it was Robina he really loved. Was she not his dream mother? and was not a dream mother greater even than a school-mother? and had she not seemed like an angel to him when he lay in slumberland that morning, and when she had somehow or other kissed him, not only on his forehead, but on his heart of hearts. He fidgetted, therefore, and looked disconsolate. Mr Durrant, on the contrary, was pale and cold and determined.
Girls, he said, “an extraordinary thing has happened I wish to announce it before I proceed to the little business which forms the subject of this meeting. Robina Starling, by her own express wish, has withdrawn from the contest between herself and Harriet Lane and the rest of you. She declines to become my little son’s school-mother, and she wants to go home at once, and she will go in about half an hour. She would, in fact, have left the house before now, but there was no convenient train. As, by her own express intention, she is not present on this occasion, and as she has already said good-bye to me and does not wish to see anything of you, and as I have made all arrangements with regard to a proper escort to convey her safely to her home, we can dismiss Robina from our minds.”
“But we can’t,” said Ralph, turning very white and facing his father and looking at him with his brown eyes full of intense sorrow.
“But we can, and must, my boy,” said the man.
“There are times in life, and the sooner you learn the lesson the better, Ralph,—when we can and must do most disagreeable things. It is, I am sure, painful to you to give Robina up. I do not profess to understand her. I liked her well, but she has gone out of our lives: we must therefore proceed to the business in hand. Ralph! tears? Are those manly?”
“I will be a man-like boy,” said Ralph. He shook his little head and turned away from the gaze of the rest of the school-mothers, and then all of a sudden a sob, just like the one which he was strangling in his own throat, was heard distinctly to proceed from someone else.
He turned abruptly, and there was Jane Bush, crying very hard. It could not be wrong even for a man-like boy to comfort someone in distress. So without waiting for his father’s permission, he flew to Jane and put his arms round her neck and kissed her many times, and said:
“Don’t, don’t be unhappy! I will love you if you will try not to be unhappy!”
Now there was something exceedingly like Bobbie in the way Ralph kissed Jane, and Jane, to relieve her feelings, gave one sob louder than the rest and turned quickly to Patience Chetwold and said:
“I will do everything you wish.”
Mr Durrant was greatly amazed at this little scene, and Harriet, who was standing alone—for not one of the others wished to have anything to do with her—was a good deal puzzled and disturbed, and made up her mind to give it very soundly to Jane later on for her ridiculous conduct. Mr Durrant paused for a minute at the unexpected interruption caused by Ralph. Then he said, still in that cold, stern voice:
“Come back immediately, and stand by my side, Ralph. Robina Starling, being out of the question, you have got to choose another school-mother. Whom do you love best in this room? Think well, my boy, and don’t allow false ideas even of bravery and of unselfishness to blind your eyes to those still nobler qualities of truth and integrity. A few days ago, the contest seemed to me to rest entirely between Harriet Lane and Robina Starling. But now that Robina has withdrawn, you are at liberty to choose any girl here present. Make your choice freely, my son; choose without fear or compunction, the one who in all respects will help you to be good, to be true, to be honourable.”
“She saved my life twice,” murmured Ralph under his breath, and then he looked full at Harriet and came a step forward. “I don’t quite understand, father,” he said, “all that you said about being very true, and very, very good. But I do know when a girl nearly gets drownded herself to save a boy like me; and I therefore choose—” again he went a step forward.
But just at that moment there came an interruption. It came from Patience Chetwold.
“Before Ralph makes his choice, Mr Durrant, I think that Jane Bush has something to tell you.”
“Jane Bush!” exclaimed Harriet, too amazed at this interruption, just when she was about to reach the pinnacle of all her hopes, to keep silent.
“Never mind,” said Ralph, hotly, “I choose Harriet.” There was a look of disappointment in Harriet’s eyes which fired his very soul. “I think, after all—p’raps I love Robina; but I love Harriet next best—far next best; and she did save me, and I choose her. Yes, Harriet—I choose you.”
“Nevertheless,” said Patience, in a very steadfast voice, “it is absolutely necessary before Mr Durrant confirms your choice, Ralph, that he should hear something Jane Bush has to say. The fact is this, sir,” continued Patience. “Frederica and I and the three Amberleys have not felt at all satisfied for some weeks past at the conduct of Harriet Lane and Robina Starling. We have felt quite absolutely sure, sir, that there was something going on behind the scenes. We were more certain than ever of that when Robina, who loves Ralph so truly, gave up the contest with Harriet last evening.”
“Oh,” said Mr Durrant; “she told you last evening, did she?”
“She did, sir,” said Patience. “She came to us when we were walking in the grounds, and told us what her decision was. Afterwards she went and told Harriet.”
“Oh!” said Mr Durrant. He looked at Harriet, whose face was very white, except where patches of angry colour starred each cheek. “I thought we had done with Robina,” he said, “but still—”
“No, we haven’t done with her,” said Patience; “that is just the point. Now Jane, tell what you have got to tell, and don’t be frightened.”
“It was my fault from the beginning,” began Jane. “Come, speak out, Jane,” said Patience, “and don’t sob any more.”
“You had better not say anything,” interrupted Harriet. “How dare you talk and force yourself on Mr Durrant’s notice? you horrid little sneak!”
“Those are not at all pretty words, Harriet,” said Mr Durrant; “and they absolutely force me to listen to whatever Jane Bush may have to say. What is it, Jane? Speak.”
“Well, sir; it was this,” said Jane. “It was this. Harriet didn’t expect any telegram to be waiting for her on board the ‘Sea-Gull.’”
“What?” said Mr Durrant.
“No, sir: but she told me to go to you and to tell you that there might be one; and it was I that thought of it, sir. I thought of a plan for Harriet to prove to you and to all the world that she was very brave and could save Ralph’s life. She asked me if I could think of a plan, and I thought of that. And you told me to tell the girls not to bathe; and I only told Harriet, and she would not tell the others; she wanted to prove to you, sir, that she was brave and could save Ralph’s life, and—and—I could not bear it any longer, and—and—I went back to the yacht; and oh—oh—she was to give me five pounds, and I don’t want it now—and I am the most awfully miserable girl in all the wide world!”
This story, which came from Jane with bursts of tears and unutterable sobs, at first sounded like mere confusion; but Mr Durrant, who had got a very orderly—indeed, almost lawyer-like mind,—soon put the broken and jagged edges of this queer narrative together; and by slow degrees and careful investigation, the whole naked truth came out. And as is the way with such truths, a great deal more came out than Jane had at first intended to reveal; for the whole incident of the pond, and the willow tree, and Ralph’s fall into the pond, and Harriet’s apparently noble conduct in trying to save him, came also to the fore; and the fact that poor Robina had overheard some of Harriet’s and Jane’s plottings and plannings was also brought to the light of day; so that a very, very ugly story was revealed to the astonished ears of the good man who thought that he was providing so very well for his little son.
Quite early, however, in the narrative, he did a somewhat queer thing. He took Ralph by the hand, and led him to the door.
“You need not listen to any more of this,” he said. “You will find Robina somewhere in the house; go to her.”
The amazed little boy found himself in the hall, shut away from all the school-mothers—from Harriet, who looked so terrible, and who had done such queer things that he certainly could not love her any longer; from Jane Bush, who seemed nearly as bad, and yet whom he, in his childish and affectionate way, pitied; and from Patience and the others, who were quite nice, but who had only, somehow or other, seen the outside of his heart. But there was Robina, and she had not gone. He would find her.
He went slowly up the wide stairs, and when he found himself on the first landing, he looked round him. There one of the housemaids saw him. Of course she loved him: every woman in the house loved Ralph.
“What is it, little master?” she said, wondering at his pale cheeks and at the anxious expression in his eyes.
“I want Robina,” he said.
“She is shut up in her own room, little master.”
Off trotted Ralph, and knocked at the door.
“Robina, Robin; let me in!” he said.
There was silence at first in answer to his imperative summons. Then there came a broken-down voice from within.
“I can’t, Ralph: go away, please.”
“But why won’t you? I must get in,” said Ralph.
Robina now made no answer of any sort, and Ralph, after waiting outside the door for a few minutes, very disconsolately retreated and went into the garden.
Now the whole of the side of the house where Robina’s room was situated was covered with an old magnolia tree, and this magnolia had a very thick trunk—quite thick enough and firm enough to hold the weight of a little boy, and as Ralph had no fear, and was an excellent climber—in fact, this small person could climb like a monkey—he soon scaled the magnolia, and appeared outside Robina’s window; and as the window happened to be wide open—for she certainly did not expect a visitor by that entrance—a little brown boy with brown eyes looked in at her from the enclosure made by the magnolia, and the next minute, he was inside the room, and pressed to Robina’s heart.
“I love you much—much best of all!” he said; “and father has sent me to you, and—and—I don’t, know anything—but there’s an awful fuss downstairs, and Jane Bush is crying, and Harriet is looking awfully angry—and—I don’t understand half nor quarter what it’s all about. But I love you best; and I choose you; for I know that I can be good with you—and oh! love me, love me a little, for I love you so much?”