A Sweet Girl Graduate Part 30
"Even there I have failed," said Priscilla sadly. "There is a girl at St. Benet's who has a strange power over me. I love her. I have a very great love for her. She is not a happy girl, she is not a perfect girl, but I would do anything-- anything in the wide world for her."
"And you would do anything for us, too?"
"Oh, yes, yes."
"And, though you don't think it, your love for us is stronger than your love for her. There is a freshness about the new love which fascinates you, but the old is the stronger. Keep both loves, my dear: both are of value. Now I must go out to visit poor Peters, who is ill, so I can see you home. Is there anything more you want to say to me?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Hayes, Aunt Raby is very ill."
"She is, Prissie."
"Does she know it?"
"Yes."
"Ought I to be away from her now-- is it right"
"My dear, do you want to break her heart? She worked so hard to get this time at college for you. No, Prissie, don't get that idea into your head. Aunt Raby is most anxious that you should have every advantage. She knows-- she and I both know-- that she cannot live more than a year or two longer, and her greatest hope is that you may be able to support your little sisters when she is gone. No, Prissie, whatever happens, you must on no account give up your life at St.
Benet's."
"Then please let me say something else. I must not go on with my cla.s.sics."
"My dear child, you are managing to crush me with all kinds of queer, disappointing sayings to-night."
"Am I? But I mean what I say now. I love Greek better than anything almost in the world. But I know enough of it already for the mere purposes of rudimentary teaching. My German is faulty-- my French not what it might he."
"Come, come, my dear; Peters is waiting to settle for the night. Can we not talk on our way down to the cottage?"
Aunt Raby was fast asleep when Priscilla re-entered the little sitting-room. The girl knelt down by the slight, old figure, and, stooping, pressed a light kiss on the forehead. Light as it was it awoke the sleeper.
"You are there still, child?" said Aunt Raby. "I dreamt you were away."
"Would you like me to stay with you, auntie?"
"No, my dear; you help me upstairs and I'll get into bed. You ought to be in your own bed, too, Prissie. Young creatures ought never to sit up late, and you have a journey before you to-morrow."
"Yes, but would you like me not to take the journey? I am strong, and could do all the work, and you might rest not only at night, but in the day. You might rest always, if I stayed here."
Aunt Raby was wide awake now, and her eyes were very bright.
"Do you mean what you say, Priscilla?" she asked.
"Yes, I do. You have the first right to me. If you want me, I'll stay."
"You'll give up that outlandish Greek, and all that babel of foreign tongues, and your fine friends, and your grand college, and you hopes of being a famous woman by and by? Do you mean this, Prissie, seriously?"
"Yes, if you want me."
"And you say I have the first claim on you?"
"I do."
"Then you're wrong; I haven't the first claim on you." Aunt Raby tumbled off the sofa and managed to stand on her trembling old legs.
"Give me your arm, child," she said; "and-- and give me a kiss, Prissie. You're a good girl and worthy of your poor father. He was a bookworm, and you are another. But he was an excellent man, and you resemble him. I'm glad I took you home and did my best for you. I'll tell him about you when I get to heaven. He'll be right pleased, I know. My sakes, child! I don't want the little bit of earth's rest.
I'm going to have a better sort than that. And you think I've the first claim on you? A poor old body like me. There, help me up to bed, my dear."
Aunt Raby did not say any more as the two scrambled up the narrow stairs in silence. When they got into the little bedroom, however, she put her arms round Priscilla's neck and gave her quite a hug.
"Thank you for offering yourself to me, my love," she said, "but I wouldn't have you on any terms whatever. Go and learn all you can at your fine college, Prissie. It's the fashion of the day for the young folk to learn a lot, and there's no going against the times. In my young life sewing was the great thing. Now it's Latin and Greek. Don't you forget that I taught you to sew, Prissie, and always put a back st.i.tch when you're running a seam; it keeps the stuff together wonderfully. Now go to bed."
CHAPTER XXIV
TWO EXTREMES
"HAVE you heard the news?" said Rosalind Merton. She skipped into Miss Day's room as she spoke.
"No; what?" asked that untidy person, turning round and dropping a lot of ribbon which she was converting into bows. "What's your news, Rose?
Out with it. I expect it's a case of 'great cry and little wool.'
However, if you want a plain opinion from me----"
"I don't ask for your opinion, Annie. I'm quite accustomed to the scornful way in which you have received all my words lately. I need not tell you what I have heard at all, unless you wish to hear it."
"But, of course, I wish to hear it, Rosie; you know that as well as I do. Now sit down and make yourself at home; there's a dear."
Rose allowed herself to be mollified.
"Well," she said, sinking back into Miss Day's most comfortable chair, "the feud between a certain small person and a certain great person grows apace."
Miss Day's small eyes began to dance.
"You know I am interested in that subject," she said. She flopped down on the floor by Rosalind Merton's side. "Go on, my love," she murmured; "describe the development of the enmity."
"Little things show the way the wind is blowing," pursued Rose. "I was coming along the corridor just now, and I met the angelic and unworldly Priscilla. Her eyelids were red as if she had been crying.
She pa.s.sed me without a word."
"Well?"
"That's all."
"Rose, you really are too provoking. I thought you had something very fine to tell."
"The feud grows," pursued Rose. "I know it by many signs. Prissie is not half so often with Maggie as she used to be. Maggie means to get out of this friendship, but she is too proud not to do it gradually.
There is not a more jealous girl in this college than Maggie, but neither is there a prouder. Do you suppose that anything under the sun would allow her to show her feelings because that little upstart dared to raise her eyes to Maggie's adorable beau, Mr. Hammond? But oh, she feels it; she feels it down in her secret soul. She hates Prissie; she hates this beautiful, handsome lover of hers for being civil to so commonplace a person. She is only waiting for a decent pretext to drop Prissie altogether. I wish with all my heart I could give her one."
As she spoke Rosalind shaded her eyes with her hand; her face looked full of sweet and thoughtful contemplation.
"Get your charming Prissie to flirt a little bit more," said Miss Day with her harsh laugh.