Book II Chapter 17 The Little School-Mothers by L. T. Meade
Virtue Rewarded
When Mr Durrant had at last got quite clearly at the truth of things, and when Harriet, brought to bay, at first struggled to deny, but at last was forced to confess the truth of Jane’s statements, his manner became very decided and summary.
“Jane,” he said; “I have nothing to do with you except to thank you. I leave you your own conscience to punish you for what you did. You were guilty of the great sin of moral weakness. You yielded to the wishes of a companion who was stronger than yourself: but at the eleventh hour you have saved the situation for me, and whoever else punishes you, Jane Bush, I am not the one. I believe, too, in the law of kindness, and I fully believe in that everlasting law of God’s forgiveness. I trust, Jane, that this will prove a lesson to you, and that you will turn over a new leaf; and if, in the future, I can help you, I will: and I know your kind school-fellows will not forsake you. Patience Chetwold, my dear, you have earned my undying gratitude. By your promptness and decision and cleverness and bravery you have saved my dear little son from the greatest catastrophe which could ever have occurred to him. Now, as to you, Harriet Lane—but I would rather speak to you not in the presence of your companions.”
At these words, all the other school-mothers went out of the room, Jane still completely surrounded by a phalanx of her companions. When the door was shut behind them and Mr Durrant and Harriet were alone, he turned to her.
“Some day, you will understand what you have done,” he said.
“I understand now,” said Harriet. “It is all up,” she added. “I wouldn’t have been such a bad school-mother as you think. There was nothing heroic or noble about me; but I wanted the post very badly; you should not have tempted me, Mr Durrant, by offering it. You began by offering a pony, which we all wanted very badly; and I did wrong to try to secure that. I failed, and I was sorry; and Robina won it. Then you offered something much more important than a pony. My feelings of jealousy towards Robina returned, and I thought I would try hard to become school-mother to Ralph; for we are poor at home, and I am not very happy, and you offered things which would have made my success in life—”
“You don’t suppose for a single moment that the path you choose to walk in could have conduced to success—real success in life, Harriet Lane?” said Mr Durrant. “Did ever deceit really prosper? I tell you what it is, Harriet,” he said, changing his tone now and going up to the girl and taking her hand, “that you ought to be down on your knees thanking Providence that at that terrible moment which you so cleverly and wickedly planned in order to show off your own bravery, little Ralph was not drowned. Had that sailor not unexpectedly come to the rescue, Ralph could certainly never have reached the shore, and it is even doubtful whether you could have done so yourself. You played with edged tools, my child, and you may be thankful you were not more severely punished.”
There was no answer from Harriet, whose eyes were fixed on the ground.
“You may be thankful, too,” continued Mr Durrant, “for the painful events of this day. Had things not turned out as they have, you might have got the post you so coveted, and where it would have ended—God only knows! Do not interrupt me by speaking: I have always known your character, although I did not dare, even to myself, say what I feared about it. You would not have been, even in the most ordinary sense, a good school-mother to Ralph: you would not even have been kind to him, for you never really loved him. You would both have been miserable; you, who only saw your own aggrandisement, would not have taken any trouble for my little son, and as you have no idea at present of truth and honour, you would but have stepped deeper into the mire. Be thankful that you have not gone further, and that you have been pulled up in your wicked ways in time. It is not my place to say anything to Mrs Burton, or you would be expelled from the school. With regard to your school life, I have nothing to say, and you will in all probability return to Abbeyfield at the end of the holidays. Make the best of your chance, and pray to God to soften your heart.
“As to poor little Jane, your victim, I myself shall take steps to have her removed to another school. She must not be subject to the chance of your cruelty after her confession of to-day. You can leave me, now, Harriet. I commit you to God’s mercy, and trust that you may repent of your evil ways. The carriage which was to convey Robina Starling to the railway station will take you there, and the escort which was to conduct her home will take you instead to your home. Good-bye. I cannot shake hands with you: nevertheless, I earnestly pray and hope that you will repent in the best sense of the word.”
Harriet left the room with her head bowed down. Mr Durrant waited until she had gone. Then he rang the bell. A servant appeared.
“Tell Mrs Martin that she is to take Miss Harriet Lane instead of Miss Robina Starling,” was his order. “Tell her to see that a comfortable luncheon basket is packed and on no account to lose the next train.” Accordingly, a few minutes later it was Harriet Lane and not Robina Starling who left Sunshine Lodge. The three Amberley girls and the two Chetwolds watched her as she departed. They were standing in a cluster in a bay window and holding each other’s hands tightly and feeling—not at all triumphant, but very, very sad; and Jane Bush was crying in a corner with her head buried in a cushion.
Just then, Mr Durrant entered the room.
“Cheer up, girls; cheer up!” he said. “A marvellous and very wonderful thing has happened to-day. Harriet Lane has left us, and we cannot regret it. I have written a line to her father who will receive her, I believe, not unkindly. You girls, who will meet her at the school, will, I am certain, do your utmost to help her to retrieve the past. As far as Ralph and I are concerned, she has gone as completely out of our lives as dear Robina wanted to go when I met her to-day before breakfast.
“Now, Jane Bush; I mean to take you in hand. You are not a good child by any means, but I think you have the making of one, and I know a school where you can be well and happily educated; and I mean to make enquiries about your little brother and sister and,—who knows? but Miriam may be allowed to join you later on at the same school. Anyhow, it is best for you and Harriet not to be together at present. And now please, all the rest of you, come back immediately to the study, for the election of the school-mother has not yet taken place.”
They all followed Mr Durrant back again to the same room. The windows were wide open, and the delicious autumn air, all fragrant with flowers and sunshine, was coming in, and there, standing close together, his arm around her waist, his hand clasping hers, was that small boy, who seemed to divide the attributes of a fairy boy and a human boy in all his ways and thoughts and doings. And there was Robina, the colour in her cheeks, and the light in her eyes.
“Ralph’s school-mother. Congratulate her and Ralph,” said Mr Durrant.
“Oh! how glad I am!” said Patience.
“And how glad we all are!” cried the others, even Jane Bush joining in the chorus.
So Robina was surrounded by her companions; and so the clouds rolled away and the sun came truly out once more at Sunshine Lodge.
The End.