The Getting of Wisdom Part 31

In the beginning, things, with the exception of numbers, went pretty well with her. Then came the final day, and with it the examination in history. Up to the present year Laura had cut a dash in history; now her brain was muddled, her memory overtaxed, by her having had to cram the whole of Green's HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE in a few months, besides a large dose of GREECE and ROME. Reports ran of the exceptionally "catchy" nature of Dr Pughson's questions; and Laura's prayer, the night before, was more like a threat than a supplication.

The cla.s.s had only just entered the Headmaster's room on the eventful morning, and begun to choose desks, when there came a summons to Laura to take a music-lesson. This was outside consideration, and Dr Pughson made short work of the intruder--a red-haired little girl, who blushed meekly and unbecomingly, and withdrew. Here, however, Laura rose and declared that, under these circ.u.mstances, some explanation was due to Monsieur Boehmer, the music-master, to-day's lesson being in fact a rehearsal for the annual concert.

Dr Pughson raised his red-rimmed eyes from his desk and looked very fierce.

"Tch, tch, tch!" he snapped, in the genial Irish fashion that made him dreaded and adored. "How like a woman that is! Playing at concerts when she can't add two and two together!--Your arithmetic paper's fit for PUNCH, Miss Rambotham."

The smile he looked for went round.

"Have you seen the questions?--no? Well, give them here then. You've got to go, I suppose, or we might deprive the concert of your shining light.--Hurry back, now. Stir your stumps!"

But this Laura had no intention of doing. In handling the printed slip, her lagging eye had caught the last and most vital question: "Give a full account of Oliver Cromwell's Foreign Policy."--And she did not know it! She dragged out her interview with the music-master, put questions wide of the point, insisted on lingering till he had arranged another hour for the postponed rehearsal; and, as she walked, as she talked, as she listened to Monsieur Boehmer's ridiculous English, she strove in vain to recall jot or t.i.ttle of Oliver's relations to foreign powers.--Oh, for just a peep at the particular page of Green! For, if once she got her cue, she believed she could go on.

The dining-hall was empty when she went through it on her way back to the cla.s.sroom: her history looked lovingly at her from its place on the shelf. But she did not dare to go over to it, take it out, and turn up the pa.s.sage: that was too risky. What she did do, however, when she had almost reached the door, was to dash back, pull out a synopsis--[P.262]

a slender, medium-sized volume--and hastily and clumsily b.u.t.ton this inside the bodice of her dress. The square, board-like appearance it gave her figure, where it projected beyond the sides of her ap.r.o.n, she concealed by hunching her shoulders.

Her lightning plan was, to enter a cloakroom, s.n.a.t.c.h a hurried peep at Oliver's confounded policy, then hide the book somewhere till the examination was over. But on emerging from the dining-hall she all but collided with the secretary, who had come noiselessly across the verandah; and she was so overcome by the thought of the danger she had run, and by Miss Blount's extreme surprise at Dr Pughson's leniency, that she allowed herself to be driven back to the examination-room without a word.

The girls were hard at it; they scarcely glanced up when she opened the door. From her friends' looks, she could judge of the success they were having. Cupid, for instance, was smirking to herself in the peculiar fashion that meant satisfaction; M. P.'s cheeks were the colour of monthly roses. And soon Laura, crouching low to cover her deformity, was at work like the rest.

Had only Oliver Cromwell never been born!--thus she reflected, when she had got the easier part of the paper behind her. Why could it not have been a question about Bourke and Wills, or the Eureka Stockade, or the voyages of Captain Cook? ... something about one's own country, that one had heard hundreds of times and was really interested in. Or a big, arresting thing like the Retreat of the Ten Thousand, or Hannibal's March over the Alps? Who cared for old Oliver, and his shorn head, and his contempt for baubles! What did it matter now to anyone what his att.i.tude had been, more than two hundred years ago, to all those far-away, dream-like countries? ... Desperately she pressed her hand to her eyes. She knew the very page of Green on which Cromwell's foreign relations were set forth; knew where the paragraph began, near the foot of the page: what she could not get hold of was the opening sentence that would have set her mechanical memory a-rolling.

The two hours drew steadily to a close. About half an hour beforehand the weakest candidates began to rise, to hand in their papers and leave the room; but it was not till ten minutes to twelve that the "crack"

girls stopped writing. Laura was to be allowed an extra twenty minutes, and it was on this she relied. At last, she was alone with the master.

But though he was already dipping into the examination-papers, he was not safe. She had unb.u.t.toned two b.u.t.tons and was at a third, when he looked up so unexpectedly that she was scared out of her senses, and fastened her dress again with all the haste she could. Three or four of the precious minutes were lost.

At this point, the door opened and Mr. Strachey strode into the room.

Dr Pughson blinked up from the stacks of papers, rose, and the two spoke in low tones. Then, with a glance at Laura, they went together to the door, which Dr Pughson held to behind him, and stood just over the threshold. As they warmed to their talk, the master let the door slip into the latch.

Laura could see them from where she sat, without being seen. A moment later they moved stealthily away, going down the verandah in the direction of the office.

Now for it! With palsied hands she undid her bodice, clutched at the book, forced her blurred eyes to find the page, and ran them over it. A brief survey: five or six heads to remember: a few dates. Flapped to again; tucked under her ap.r.o.n; shoved into her bosom.

And not a second too soon. There he came, hurrying back. And three b.u.t.tons were still undone. But Laura's head was bent over her desk: though her heart was pummelling her ribs, her pen now ran like lightning; and by the time the order to stop was given, she had covered the requisite number of sheets. Afterwards she had adroitly to rid herself of the book, then to take part--a rather pale-eyed, distracted part--in the lively technical discussions that ensued; when each candidate was as long-winded on the theme of her success, or non-success, as a card-player on his hand at the end of a round.

Directly she could make good her escape, she pleaded a headache, climbed to her bedroom and stretched herself flat on her bed. She was through--but at what a cost! She felt quite sore. Her very bones seemed to hurt her.

Not till she was thoroughly rested, and till she had a.s.sured herself that all risk attaching to the incident was over, did she come to reflect on the part G.o.d had played in the business. And then, it must be admitted, she found it a sorry one. Just at first, indeed, her limpid faith was shocked into a reluctance to believe that He had helped her at all: His manner of doing it would have been so inexpressibly mean. But, little by little, she dug deeper, and eventually she reached the [P.265] conclusion that He had given her the option of this way, throwing it open to her and then standing back and watching to see what she would do, without so much as raising an eyelid to influence her decision. In fact, the more she pondered over it, the more inclined she grew to think that it had been a kind of snare on the part of G.o.d, to trap her afresh into sin, and thus to prolong her dependence on Him after her crying need was past. But, if this were true, if He had done this, then He must LIKE people to remain miserable sinners, so that He might have them always crawling to His feet. And from this view of the case her ingenuous young mind shrank appalled.

She could not go on loving and worshipping a G.o.d who was capable of double dealing; who could behave in such a "mean, Jewy fashion". Nor would she ever forget His having forced her to endure the moments of torture she had come through that day.

Lying on her bed, she grappled with these thoughts. A feeling of deep resentment was their abiding result. Whatever His aim, it had been past expression pitiless of Him, Him who had at His command thousands of pleasanter ways in which to help her, thus to drive a poor unhappy girl to extremities: one, too, whose pet.i.tion had not been prompted by selfish ends alone. What she had implored of Him touched Mother even more nearly than herself: her part prayer to Him had been to save Mother--whose happiness depended on things like examinations--from a bitter disappointment. That much at least He had done--she would give Him His due--but at the expense of her entire self-respect. Oh, He must have a cold, calculating heart ... could one only see right down into it. The tale of His clemency and compa.s.sion, which the Bible told, was not to be interpreted literally: when one came to think of it, had He ever--outside the Bible--been known to stoop from His judgment-seat, and lovingly and kindly intervene? It was her own absurd mistake: she had taken the promises made through His Son, for gospel truth; had thought He really meant what He said, about rewarding those who were faithful to Him. Her companions--the companions on whom, from the heights of her piety, she had looked pityingly down--were wiser than she. They did not abase themselves before Him, and vow a lifelong devotion; but neither did they make any but the most approved demands on Him. They satisfied their consciences by paying Him lip-homage, by confessing their sins, and by asking for a vague, far-distant mercy, to which they attached no great importance. Hence, they never came into fierce personal conflict with Him. Nor would she, ever again; from this time forward, she would rival the rest in lukewarmness.--But, before she could put this resolve into force, she had to let her first indignation subside: only then was it possible for her to recover the shattering of her faith, and settle down to practise religion after the glib and shallow mode of her friends. She did not, however, say her prayers that night, or for many a right to come; and when, at church, Christ's name occurred in the Service, she held her head erect, and shut the ears and eyes of her soul.

XXV.

IHR LERNTET ALLE NICHT TANZEN, WIE MAN TANZEN MUSS--UBER EUCH HINWEG TANZEN!

NIETZSCHE

The school year had ebbed; the ceremonies that attended its conclusion were over. A few days beforehand, the fifth-form boarders, under the tutelage of a couple of governesses, drove off early in the morning to the distant university. On the outward journey the candidates were thoughtful and subdued; but as they returned home, in the late afternoon, their spirits were not to be kept within seemly bounds. They laughed, sang, and rollicked about inside the wagonette, Miss Zielinski weakly protesting unheard--were so rowdy that the driver pushed his cigar-stump to the corner of his mouth, to be able to smile at ease, and flicked his old horse into a canter. For the public examination had proved as antic.i.p.ated, child's play, compared with what the cla.s.s had been through at Dr Pughson's hands; and its accompanying details were of an agreeable nature: the weather was not too hot; the examination-hall was light and airy; through the flung-back windows trees and flowering shrubs looked in; the students were watched over by a handsome Trinity man, who laid his straw hat on the desk before him.

Then came the annual concert, at which none of the performers broke down; Speech Day, when the body of a big hall was crowded with relatives and friends, and when so many white, blue-beribboned frocks were ma.s.sed together on the platform, that this looked like a great bed of blue and white flowers; and, finally, trunks were brought out from boxrooms and strewn through the floors, and upper-form girls emptied cupboards and drawers into them for the last time.

On the evening before the general dispersion, Laura, Cupid, and M. P.

walked the well-known paths of the garden once again. While the two elder girls were more loquacious than their wont, Laura was quieter.

She had never wholly recovered her humour since the day of the history-examination; and she still could not look back, with composure, on the jeopardy in which she had placed herself one little turn of the wheel in the wrong direction, and the end of her schooldays would have been shame and disgrace.--And just as her discovery of G.o.d's stratagem had damped her religious ardour, so her antipathy to the means she had been obliged to employ had left a feeling of enmity in her, towards the school and everything connected with it: she had counted the hours till she could turn her back on it altogether. None the less, now that the time had come there was a kind of ache in her at having to say good-bye; for it was in her nature to let go unwillingly of things, places and people once known. Besides, glad as she felt to have done with learning, she was unclear what was to come next. The idea of life at home attracted her as little as ever--Mother had even begun to hint as well that she would now be expected to instruct her young brothers.

Hence, her parting was effected with very mixed feelings; she did not know in the least where she really belonged, or under what conditions she would be happy; she was conscious only of a mild sorrow at having to take leave of the shelter of years.

Her two companions had no such doubts and regrets; for them the past was already dead and gone; their talk was all of the future, so soon to become the present. They forecast this, mapping it out for themselves with the iron belief in their power to do so, which is the hall-mark of youth.

Laura, walking at their side, listened to their words with the deepest interest, and with the reverence she had learned to extend to all opinions save her own.

M. P. proposed to return to Melbourne at the end of the vacation; for she was going on to Trinity, where she intended to take one degree after another. She hesitated only whether it was to be in medicine or arts.

"Oogh! ... to cut off people's legs!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Laura. "M. P., how awful."

"Oh, one soon gets used to that, child.--But I think, on the whole, I should prefer to take up teaching. Then I shall probably be able to have a school of my own some day."

"I shouldn't wonder if you got Sandy's place here," said Laura, who was a.s.sured that M. P.'s ma.s.sy intellect would open all doors.

"Who knows?" answered Mary, and set her lips in a determined fashion of her own. "Stranger things have happened."

Cupid, less enamoured of continual discipline, intended to be a writer.

"My cousin says I've got the stuff in me. And he's a journalist and ought to know."

"I should rather think he ought."

"Well, I mean to have a shot at it."

"And you, Laura?" M. P. asked suavely.

"Me?--Oh, goodness knows!"

"Close as usual, Infant."

"No, really not, Cupid."

"Well, you'll soon have to make up your mind to something now. You're nearly sixteen.--Why not go on working for your B.A.?"

"No thanks! I've had enough of that here." And Laura's thoughts waved their hands, as it were, to the receding figure of Oliver Cromwell.

"Be a teacher, then."

"M.P.! I never want to hear a date or add up a column of figures again."

"Laura!"