CHAPTER TWO.
TOO SUCCESSFUL!
The next few days passed by slowly enough. It is a great trial for ayoung creature to realise that a change is inevitable and, at the sametime, that one must be cautious about making it. The impulse is alwaysto rush into action, and it is difficult to sit still and agree with theelderly precept in favour of consideration and delay. If matters hadbeen left to Claire she would have started out forthwith to search for acheap Pension, and would have also despatched a letter to MissFarnborough by the first post, to inquire if the school post were stillopen, but her mother vetoed both proposals, and pleaded so urgently fordelay, that there was nothing left but to agree, and compose herself asbest she might.
The weather was too hot for tennis, and in truth Claire was not in themood for games. With every hour she realised more keenly that she hadcome to the parting of the ways, and in the prospect of a new life oldinterests lost their savour. Her mother seemed to share herrestlessness, but while Claire preferred to stay indoors, in the privacyof her own room, Mrs Gifford seemed to find relief in action, and wasoften out for hours at a time, without vouchsafing any explanation ofher absence.
Claire was not curious. She was content to close the green shutters ofher windows, slip into a muslin wrapper, and employ herself at somesimple piece of needlework, which kept her hands busy while leaving herthoughts free.
Where would she be this time next year? It was a question which nomortal can answer with certainty, but many of us are happy in theprobability that we shall be still living in the same dear home,surrounded by the people and the objects which we love, whereas Claire'sone certainty was that she must move on to fresh scenes. Bombay orLondon--that seemed the choice ahead! Matrimony or teaching. On theone hand a luxurious home, carriages and horses, a staff of servants,and apparently as much society as one desired, with the incubus of ahusband whom she did not love, and who was twenty years her senior. Onthe other hand, work and poverty, with the advantages of freedom andindependence.
Claire's eyes brightened at the sound of those two words, for dear asliberty is to the heart of an Englishwoman, it was in prospect dearerstill to this girl who had been educated in a country still enslaved bychaperonage, and had never known a taste of real freedom of action.Mrs Gifford had been as strict as or stricter than any Belgian mother,being rightly determined that no breath of scandal should touch herdaughter's name; therefore wherever Claire went, some responsible femalewent with her. She was chaperoned to church, chaperoned on her morningconstitutional, a chaperon sat on guard during the period of music anddrawing lessons, and at their conclusion escorted her back to thePension. What wonder that the thought of life as a bachelor girl inLondon seemed full of a thrilling excitement!
Suppose for one minute that she decided on London--what would become ofmother? Again and again Claire asked herself this question, again andagain she recalled the interview between herself and the headmistress,Miss Farnborough, when the subject of teaching had been discussed. Ithad happened one morning in the salon of the Pension, when Claire hadbeen coaching an English visitor in preparation for a French interviewwhich lay ahead, and Miss Farnborough, laying down her book, hadlistened with smiling interest. Then the Englishwoman left the room,and Miss Farnborough had said, "You did that very cleverly; verycleverly indeed! You have a very happy knack of putting things simplyand forcibly. I've noticed it more than once. Have you ever done anyteaching?"
"None professionally," Claire had replied with a laugh, "but a greatdeal by chance. I seem to drift into the position of coach to most ofthe English visitors here. It pleases them, and it interests me. And Iused to help the French girls with their English at school."
Then Miss Farnborough had inquired with interest as to the details ofClaire's education, the schools she had attended, the examinations shehad passed, and finally had come the critical question, "Have you everthought of taking up teaching as a profession?"
Claire had never thought of taking up work of any kind, but thesuggestion roused a keen interest, as one of the temporary "tight" timeswas in process, so that the prospect of money-making seemed particularlyagreeable. She discussed the subject carefully, and out of thatdiscussion had arisen the final offer of a post.
The junior French mistress in the High School of which Miss Farnboroughwas head was leaving at midsummer. If Claire wished she could take herplace, at a salary beginning at a hundred and ten pounds a year. InTrust Schools, of which Saint Cuthbert's was one, there was no fixedscale of advancement, but a successful teacher could reach a salary of,say, two hundred a year by the time she was thirty-eight or forty, asagainst the permanent sixty or seventy offered to mistresses inresidential schools of a higher grade. Miss Farnborough's mistresseswere women trained at the various universities; the school itself wassituated in a fashionable neighbourhood, and its pupils were for themost part daughters of professional men, and gentlefolk of moderateincomes. There was no pension scheme, and mistresses had to live out,but with care and economy they could take out some insurance to providefor old age.
Claire took little interest in her own old age, which seemed too faraway to count, but she was intensely interested in the immediate future,and had been hurt and annoyed when her mother had waved aside theproposal as unworthy of serious consideration. And now, only threemonths after Miss Farnborough's departure, the crisis had arisen, andthat hundred and ten pounds assumed a vastly increased value. Supposingthat the post was accepted, and mother and daughter started life inLondon with a capital of between two and three hundred pounds, and asalary of one hundred and ten, as regular income--how long would thenest-egg last out?
Judging from the experience of past years, a very short time indeed, andwhat would happen after that? Claire had read gruesome tales of thestruggles of women in like positions, overtaken by illness, losing thesalaries which represented their all, brought face to face with actualstarvation, and in the midst of the midsummer heat, little shivers offear trickled up and down her spine as she realised how easily she andher mother might drift into a like position.
Then, on the other hand, Bombay! Indian houses were large; mother couldhave her own rooms. In the hot weather they would go together to thehills, leaving Mr Judge behind. How long did the hot season last, fouror five months? Nearly half the year, perhaps. It would be only halfas bad as marrying a man for money in Europe, for you would get rid ofhim all that time! Claire shrugged her shoulders and laughed, and twominutes later whisked away a tear, dedicated to the memory of girlishdreams. Useless to dream any longer, she was awake now, and must facelife in a sensible manner. Her duty was to marry Robert Judge, and tomake a home for her mother.
Another girl might have cherished anger against the recklessness whichhad landed her in such a trap, but after the first shock of discoverythere had been no resentment in Claire's heart. She implicitly believedher mother's assurance that according to her light she had acted for thebest, and echoed with heartiness the assertion that the money hadprovided a good time for thirteen long years.
They had not been rich, but there had been a feeling of sufficiency.They had had comfortable quarters, pretty clothes, delightful holidayjourneys, a reasonable amount of gaiety, and, over and beyond all, theadvantages of an excellent education. Claire's happy nature rememberedher benefits, and made short work of the rest. Poor, beautiful mother!who could expect her to be prudent and careful, like any ordinary,prosaic, middle-aged woman?
Even as the thought passed through the girl's mind the door of thebedroom opened, and Mrs Gifford appeared on the threshold. She wore alarge shady hat, and in the dim light of the room her face was notclearly visible, but there was a tone in her voice which arousedClaire's instant curiosity. Mother was trying to speak in her ordinaryvoice, but she was nervous, she was agitated. She was not feelingordinary at all.
"Claire, _cherie_, we are going to the forest to have tea. It isimpossibly hot indoors, but it will be delightful under the trees. MrJudge
has sent for a _fiacre_, and Miss Benson has asked to come too.Put on your blue muslin and your big hat. Be quick, darling! I'llfasten you up."
"I'd rather not go, thank you, mother. I'm quite happy here. Don'ttrouble about me!"
Mrs Gifford was obviously discomposed. She hesitated, frowned, walkedrestlessly up and down, then spoke again with an added note ofinsistence--
"But I want you to come, Claire. I've not troubled you before, becauseI saw you wanted to be alone, but--it can't go on. Mr Judge wants youto come. He suggested the drive because he thought it would tempt you.If you refuse to-day, he will ask you again to-morrow. I think, dear,you ought to come."
Claire was silent. She felt sick and faint; all over her body littlepulses seemed to be whizzing like so many alarm clocks, all crying ininsistent voices, "Time's up! Time's up! No more lazing. Up with you,and do your duty!" Her forehead felt very damp and her throat felt verydry, and she heard a sharp disagreeable voice saying curtly--
"Oh, certainly, I will come. No need to make a fuss. I can dressmyself, thank you. I'll come down when I'm ready!"
Mrs Gifford turned without a word and went out of the room, but Clairewas too busy being sorry for herself to have sympathy to spare foranyone else. She threw off her wrapper and slipped into the cool muslindress which was at once so simple, and so essentially French and up-to-date, and then, throwing open the door of a cupboard, stared at a longrow of hats ranged on a top shelf, and deliberately selected the onewhich she considered the least becoming.
"I will _not_ be decked up for the sacrifice!" she mutteredrebelliously, then bent forward, so that her face approached close tothe flushed, frowning reflection in the glass. "You are going to beproposed to, my dear!" she said scornfully. "You are going to be goodand sensible, and say `Yes, please!' When you see yourself next, youwill be Engaged! It won't be dear little Claire Gifford any more, itwill be the horrible future Mrs Robert Judge!"
She stuck hat-pins through the straw hat with savage energy; for once inher life noticed with distinct satisfaction that it was secured at anunbecoming angle, then, hearing through the _jalousies_ the sound ofapproaching wheels, marched resolutely forth to meet her fate...
In the _fiacre_ Mrs Gifford and Miss Benson took the seats of honour,leaving Claire and Mr Judge to sit side by side, and the one furtiveglance which she cast in his direction showed him looking confident andunperturbed. Just like a French _pretendu_, already assured by Mamanthat Mademoiselle was meekly waiting to assent to his suit!
"He might at least pay me the compliment of _pretending_! It isdreadfully dull to be taken for granted," reflected Claire in disgust.
The next hour was a horrible experience. Everything happened exactly asClaire had known it would, from the moment the quartette set forth.Arrived at the forest, they took possession of one of the little tablesbeneath the trees, and made fitful conversation the while they consumeddelicious cakes and execrable tea. Then the meal being finished, MrsGifford and her companion announced a wish to sit still and rest, whileMr Judge nervously invited Miss Claire to accompany him in a walk. Sheassented, of course; what was the use of putting it off? and as soon asthey were well started, he spied another seat, and insisted upon sittingdown once more.
"Now he'll begin," thought Claire desperately. "He'll talk about India,and being lonely, and say how happy he has felt since he's been here,"and even as the thought passed through her mind, Mr Judge began tospeak.
"Awfully jolly old forest this is--awfully nice place Brussels,altogether. Nicest place in the world. Never been so happy in my lifeas I've been the last month. Of course, naturally, you must realisethat, when a fellow hangs on week after week, there--er, there must besome special attraction. Not that it isn't a rattling old city, and allthat!" Mr Judge was growing a little mixed: his voice sounded flurriedand nervous, but Claire was not in the least inclined to help him. Shesat rigid as a poker, staring stolidly ahead. There was not the ghostof a dimple in her soft pink cheeks.
"I--er, your mother tells me that she has said nothing to you, but sheis sure, all the same, that you suspect. I asked her to let me speak toyou to-day. Naturally she feels the difficulty. She is devoted to you.You know that, of course. I have told her that I will make yourhappiness my special charge. There is nothing in the world I would notdo to ensure it. You know that too, don't you, Claire?"
He stretched out his hand and touched her tentatively on the arm, butClaire drew herself back with a prickly dignity. If he wanted topropose at all, he must propose properly; she was not going to commitherself in response to an insinuation.
"You are very kind. I am quite happy as I am."
"Er--yes--yes, of course, but--but things don't go on, you know, can'tgo on always without a change!"
Mr Judge took off his straw hat, twirled it nervously to and fro, andlaid it down on the bench by his side. Claire, casting a quick glance,noticed that his hair was growing noticeably thin on the temples, andfelt an additional sinking of spirits.
"Claire!" cried the man desperately, "don't let us beat about the bush.I'm not used to this sort of thing--don't make it harder than you need!You _have_ noticed, haven't you? You know what I want to tell you?"
Claire nodded dumbly. In the case of previous Belgian admirers affairshad been checked before they reached the extreme stage, and she foundthis, her first spoken proposal much less exciting than she hadexpected. As a friend pure and simple, she had thoroughly liked MrJudge, and at the bottom of her heart there lived a lingering hope thatperhaps if he loved her very much, and expressed his devotion in veryeloquent words, her heart might soften in response. But so far he hadnot even mentioned love! She was silent for several minutes, and whenshe did speak it was to ask a side question.
"Is mother willing to go to India?"
She was looking at the man as she spoke, and the change which passedover his face, startled her by its intensity. His eyes shone, therugged features were transfigured by a very radiance of joy. He lookedyoung at that moment, young and handsome, and blissfully content.Claire stared at him in amazement, not unmingled with irritation. Evenif mother _were_ willing, her own consent had still to be obtained. Itwas tactless to make so sure!
Her own face looked decidedly sulky as she twitched round on her seat,and resumed her stolid staring into space. Again there was silence,till a hand stretched out to clasp her arm, and a voice spoke in deepappealing accents--
"Claire, dear child, you are young; you have never known loneliness ordisappointment. We have! Happiness is fifty times more precious, whenit comes to those who have suffered. You would not be cruel enough todamp our happiness! You _can_ do it, you know, if you persist in anattitude of coldness and disapproval. I don't say you can destroy it.Thank God! it goes too deep for anyone to be able to do that. But youcan rub off the bloom. Don't do it, Claire! Be generous. Be yourself.Wish us good luck!"
"Wish _who_ good luck? What, oh, what are you talking about?" Clairewas gasping now, quivering with a frenzy of excitement. Robert Judgestared in return, his face full of an honest bewilderment.
"Of our engagement, of course. Your mother's engagement to me. I havebeen talking about it all the time!"
Then Claire threw up both her hands, and burst into a wild peal oflaughter. Peal after peal rang out into the air, she rocked to and froon her seat, her eyes disappeared from view, her teeth shone, her littlefeet in their dainty French shoes danced upon the ground; she laughedtill the tears poured down her cheeks, and her gloved hands pressedagainst her side where a "stitch" was uncomfortably making itself felt.Stout Belgian couples passing past the end of the avenue, looked on withindulgent smiles, a little shocked at so much demonstration in public,but relieved to perceive that _une Anglaise_ could laugh with such_abandon_. Monsieur they observed looked not sympathetic. Monsieur hadan air injured, annoyed, on his dignity. On his cheeks was a flush, asof wounded pride. When at length the paroxysm showed signs oflessening, he spoke in cold
stilted tones.
"You appear to find it ridiculous. It seems to amuse you very much. Imay say that to us it is a serious matter!"
"Oh no! You don't understand--you _don't_ understand!" gasped Clairefeebly. "I am not laughing at you. I'm laughing at myself. Oh, MrJudge, you'll never guess, it's too screamingly funny for words. Ithought all this time, from the very beginning I thought, it was _me_!"
"You thought it was--you thought I wanted--that I was talking of--that Imeant to propose to--"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Me! Me! Me! Of course I did. I've been thinkingit for weeks. Everyone thought so. They've teased me to death. Youwere attentive to me, you know you were. You were always giving methings ..."
"Well, of course!" Poor Mr Judge defended himself with honestindignation. "What else could I do? I could not give them to _her_!And I wanted--naturally I wanted, to get you on my side. You were thedifficulty. I knew that if she had only herself to consider I could winher round, but if you ranged yourself against me, it would be a hardfight. Naturally I tried to ingratiate myself. It appears that I haverather overdone the part, but I can't flatter myself," his eyes twinkledmischievously, "that I've been too successful! You don't appear exactlyovercome with disappointment!"
They laughed together, but only for a moment. Then he was seriousagain, appealing to her in earnest tones.
"You won't range yourself against me, Claire? You won't dissuade her.--I love her very dearly, and I know I can make her happy. You won't makeit hard for us?"
"Indeed, I won't! Why should I?" Claire cried heartily. "I'm only toothankful. Mother needs someone to look after her, and I'd sooner youdid it than anyone else. I like you awfully--always did, until I beganto be afraid--I didn't want to marry you myself, but if mother does, Ithink it's a splendid thing."
"Thank you, dear, thank you a thousand times. That's a _great_ relief."Robert Judge stretched himself with a deep breath of satisfaction.Then he grew confidential, reviewing the past with true lover-likeenjoyment.
"I fell in love with her that first afternoon at the tennis club.Thought Bridges introduced her as Miss Gifford, put her down at twenty-five, and hoped she wouldn't think me a hopeless old fogey. Never hadsuch a surprise in my life as when she introduced you. Thought for atime I should have to give it up. Then she asked my advice on one ortwo business matters, and I discovered--" He hesitated, flushinguncomfortably, and Claire finished the sentence.
"That we are coming to the end of our resources?"
Mr Judge nodded.
"And so, of course," he continued simply, "that settled it. I couldn'tgo away and leave her to face a struggle. I was jolly thankful to feelthat I had met her in time."
"I think you are a dear, good man. I think mother is very lucky. Thankyou so much for being my step-papa!" cried Claire, her grey eyessoftening with a charming friendliness as they dwelt on the man's honestface, and he took her hand in his, and squeezed it with affectionateardour.
"Thank you, my dear. Thank _you_! I shall be jolly proud of havingsuch a pretty daughter. I'm not a rich man, but I am comfortably well-off, and I'll do my best to give you a good time. Your mother feelssure she will enjoy the Indian life. Most girls think it great fun.And of course I have lots of friends."
Claire stared at him, a new seriousness dawning in her eyes. She lookedvery pretty and very young, and not a little pathetic into the bargain.For the first time since the realisation of her mistake the personalapplication of the situation burst upon her, and a chill crept throughher veins. If she herself had married Robert Judge, her mother wouldhave made her home with them as a matter of course; but it was by nomeans a matter of course that she should make her home with her mother.She stared into the honest face of the man before her--the man who wasnot rich, the man who was in love for the first time in his life, and asmile twisted the corner of her lips.
"Mr Judge, if I ask you a question, will you promise to give me anabsolutely honest answer?"
"Yes, I will."
"Well, then, will you _like_ having a third person living with you allthe time?"
Up to the man's forehead rushed the treacherous blood. He frowned, hescowled, he opened his lips to protest; but that flush had answered forhim, and Claire refused to listen. "No, no--don't! Of course youwouldn't. Who would, in your place? Poor darlings--I quite understand.You _are_ middle-aged, you know, though you feel about nineteen, andmother is prettier and more charming than half the girl brides. And youwill want to be just as young and foolish as you like, not to be_obliged_ to be sensible because a grown-up daughter is there all thetime, staring at you with big eyes? I should be in the way, and Ishould _feel_ in the way, and--"
Mr Judge interrupted in an urgent voice:
"Look here, Claire, I don't think you ought to corner me like this.It's not fair. I've told you that I am prepared to do everything foryour happiness. You ought surely to realise that I--"
"And _you_ ought to realise that I--" Claire broke off suddenly, andheld out her hand with a charming smile. "Oh, but there's plenty oftime--we can arrange all that later on. Let's go and find mother andput her out of her misery. She will be longing to see us come back."
They walked down the avenue together, and, as they went, Claire turnedher head from side to side, taking in the well-known scene with wistfulintensity. How many times would she see it again? As she had said,many discussions would certainly take place as to her futuredestination, but she knew in her heart that the result was sure.Providence had decided or her. The future was London and work!
The Independence of Claire Page 2
