George Fenn - The New Mistress - A Tale

It was nearly six months since her father’s death, and she could not conceal the fact from herself that they were rapidly going down-hill. Instead of Percy being a help, he was an expense; and everything depended upon her. Under the circumstances, the only prospect open to her was to start a school; but while the grass was growing the steed was starving, and she used to look with envy at the smart well-dressed mistress of the national school hard by, with her troop of girls who came pouring out at noon; and at last came like an inspiration the idea – why should not she get a post as mistress?

To think was to act, and she boldly called on the mistress, who sent her away terribly dejected, with the information that at least a year’s training in the system, however well educated the would-be teacher might be, was absolutely necessary. Hazel, however, obtained a good deal of information as well, ready to ponder over – how she might either go to Whitelands or to Smith Square, Westminster; what would be the cost; the probabilities of her obtaining a school afterwards; the salary; etcetera, etcetera.

She went back in despair, for how could the money be obtained to pay her expenses and keep house as well, while the idea of obtaining a school at the end of a year’s training, with a certain salary and a comfortable home, seemed so Eden-like a prospect that the difficulties to be surmounted appeared to grow.

Like all other difficulties, however, they began to shrink when boldly attacked. Hazel wrote to two or three relatives, as a forlorn hope, and they who had before only doled out a few pounds unwillingly, jumped at the chance of getting the indigent applicant off their hands, and after a consultation, wrote to her saying they were so pleased with her efforts at self-help, that amongst them they would subscribe the funds for paying her fees, at the training institution and for maintaining Mrs Thorne and the children for a year, or such time as Hazel should get a school.

“Oh, mamma, mamma, sunshine at last,” cried the girl, and trembling, weeping, and laughing hysterically, in turn, so great was her joy, she read the letter, which came upon Mrs Thorne as a surprise, her child having kept her quite in ignorance of the plans to prevent disappointment.

“Then, I think it very disgraceful, very disgraceful indeed, Hazel,” said the poor woman indignantly. “They ought to be ashamed of themselves.”

“Ashamed, dear mother!”

“Now, don’t you turn against me in my troubles, Hazel,” cried Mrs Thorne. “What have I done that my own child should begin to degrade me?”

“Degrade you? Oh, my own dear mother!”

“There – there again! I don’t care how low we are forced by the cruelty of my relatives, and your poor dear papa’s. I will never forget that I am a lady.”

“Surely not, dear,” said Hazel soothingly.

“Then why will you persist in calling me by that low, common, degrading term – Mother?”

“Dear mamma, I thought it better under the circumstances.”

“No circumstances could excuse it, Hazel,” said Mrs Thorne with dignity. “Percy never speaks to me like that; and by-the-way, my dear, Percy says he must have a new suit: his mourning is getting so shabby, he is quite ashamed of it, and I’m sure my heart bleeds every time I see the poor boy go out.”

“Yes, mamma, we will see what can be done,” said Hazel, suppressing a sigh.

“And as to that national school business,” continued Mrs Thorne, “it is disgraceful. Write and tell cousin Jane and her husband that, however low we may be reduced by poverty, my daughter will never forget that she is a lady.”

“But, mamma dear,” said Hazel gently; “it was entirely my idea, and I wrote for their help.”

“You – you, Hazel – my child – propose to go to a common training school, and then accept a situation to teach a pack of dirty poor people’s children? Oh, what have I done – what have I done to be called upon to suffer this new – this pitiful degradation! What have I done?”

It was hard work, but by degrees poor Mrs Thorne was brought round to think that perhaps – perhaps – she would go no farther – it might be less degradation to accept an honourable post and do a great duty therein of helping to make so many girls better women by careful training, than to live in indigence as a kind of respectable pauper, subsisting on the assistance of grudging friends.

So the poor, weak, proud woman at last gave way, and the preliminaries being arranged, Hazel was about to leave home for the training institution full of hope, when there was a change in the state of affairs.

All this had taken place unknown to Mr Geringer, who was quite startled when he heard the plans, for they ran counter to his own.

It had been quite in keeping with his ideas that the Thornes should taste the bitters of poverty, and know what being impecunious really meant. The poorer they were the easier would be his task. Matters had gone on swimmingly. Their position had had its effect upon the Graves’s, and his rival, as he called Archibald Graves, had left the field; six months had passed, and Hazel had grown to look upon him as a very dear friend, though not as a lover, and he had come to the conclusion that the time was now ripe for asking her to be his wife; in fact, he had had thoughts of speaking at their last meeting, but had been put off! Now he had come to find Mrs Thorne alone, and after a certain amount of preliminary, was about to speak, when the lady fired off her views and took him by surprise.

“Go – to a training institution – become a schoolmistress!” he cried. “My dear Mrs Thorne, it is impossible.”

“Exactly my words,” said the lady. “‘Hazel, my dear child,’ I said, ‘such a degradation is impossible.’”

“Quite impossible,” said Geringer; and then he drew nearer and talked for some time in a low voice to Mrs Thorne, who shed tears and sobbed greatly, and said that she had always looked upon him as their best and dearest friend.

“I have waited, you see,” he continued, “for of course if I had felt that dear Hazel really cared for this young Graves I should have said nothing, and I fully know my deficiencies, my age, and such drawbacks; but I am tolerably wealthy, and I can give her all she has lost, restore her nearest and dearest to their proper place in society – almost to the position they formerly held in the world’s esteem.”

Mrs Thorne thought they were words of gold, and at Geringer’s request she not only readily promised to prepare Hazel, but that all should be as he wished.

L’homme propose , as the French proverb has it and things do not always turn out as he wishes. Mr Geringer, after the preparation Hazel received from Mrs Thorne, proposed and was refused. Hazel said it was impossible, and such was her obstinacy, as Mrs Thorne called it, she refused to become a rich man’s wife, and insisted upon going to the Whitelands training institution, condemning her unfortunate mother to a life of poverty and degradation, her brother to toil, and blasting her young sisters’ prospects, when she might have married, had her carriage, and all would have gone as merry as a marriage bell.

That was Mrs Thorne’s view of the case, and she kept up her protests with tears and repining, winning Percy to her side till he was always ready to reproach his sister. Hazel bore all, worked with all the energy in her nature for the year of training, was fortunate in getting a school after a few months’ waiting, and was, as we found her, duly installed in the little schoolhouse, her brother being boarded with some humble friends in town.

Hazel Thorne felt giddy as she took her seat in the front of the gallery, the seat with a little square patchy cushion close to the red curtains in front of the organist’s pew. Beside and behind her the school children sat in rows, with ample room for three times the number; but the seats were never filled save upon the two Sundays before the annual school feast when somehow the Wesleyan and Congregational Sunday-schools were almost empty, and the church school thronged.