there are times in life when all one's preconceived ideas are completely upset and altered. we looked at the world from a certain point of view. from that special angle of our own it showed in gold and rose color and blue. a day came when we were forced to change our vantage ground, and on that day we for the first time perceived the grays and the blacks of that same old world—it ceased to smile on us, it ceased to pet us—it ceased to say to us, "i was made to render your life beautiful, i was made to minister to every selfish desire of yours; i am your slave, you are my mistress; do with me what you will."
on this particular day the world ceases to speak in those gentle and submissive tones. with all its grays and its blacks turned full in view, it says: "you are only an atom; there are millions of other human beings to share my good things as well as my evil. after all, i am not your slave, but your mistress; i have made laws, and you have got to obey them. up to the present i have treated you as a baby, but now i am going to show you what life really means."
it was in some such fashion that the world spoke to bridget o'hara on this special summer's morning.
mrs. freeman took her unwilling hand, led her into miss patience's dull little sitting room, which only[pg 63] looked out upon the back yard, and, shutting the door behind her, left her to her own meditations.
"you remain here, bridget," she repeated, "until you have promised to obey the rules of the school. no longer and no shorter will be your term of punishment. it remains altogether with yourself how soon you are liberated."
the door was closed then, and bridget o'hara found herself alone.
the summer sounds came in to her, for the window of her dull room was open, the birds were twittering in the trees, innumerable doves were cooing; there was the gentle, soft whisper of the breeze, the cackling of motherly hens, the lowing of cows, and, far away beyond and over them, the insistent, ceaseless whisper of the gentle waves on the shore.
bridget stood by the window, but she heard none of these soothing sounds. her spoilt, childish heart was in the most open state of rebellion and revolt.
she was in every sense of the word an untamed creature; she was like a wild bird who had just been caught and put into a cage.
by and by doubtless the poor bird would be taught to develop his notes into something richer and rarer than nature had made them, but the process would be painful. bridget was like the bird, and she was beating her poor little wings now against her cage.
her first impulse was to open the door of her prison and go boldly out.
she had not passed a pleasant morning, however, and this plan scarcely commended itself to her.
for some reason her companions, both old and young in the school, had taken upon themselves to cut her.
[pg 64]
in all her life bridget had never been cut before.
at the dear old wild castle in ireland she had been idolized by everyone, the servants had done her bidding, however extravagant and fanciful that bidding had been. she led her old father where she wished with silken reins. the dogs, the horses, even the cows and the calves, followed bridget like so many faithful shadows. in short, this wild little girl was the beloved queen of the castle. to cut her, or show her the smallest incivility, would have been nothing short of high treason.
this morning bridget had been practically "sent to coventry." even dorothy was cold in her manner to her. the small children who had hung upon her words and followed her with delight the evening before, were now too frightened at the consequences of their own daring to come near her. janet, ruth, and olive had shown their disapproval by marked avoidance and covert sneers. bridget had done a very naughty act, and the school thought it well to show its displeasure.
there was little use, therefore, in rushing out of her prison to join her companions in their playground or on the shore.
should she run away altogether? should she walk to eastcliff and take the next train to london, and then, trusting to chance, and to the kindness of strangers, endeavor to find her way back to the dear and loving shores of the old country, and so back again to the beloved home?
tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought of this plan; but, in the first place, she had no idea how to manage it, and, what was a far more serious obstacle, her little sealskin purse, her father's last present, was empty.
[pg 65]
bridget could certainly not return home without money.
she sat down presently on the nearest chair and covered her face with her hands. she could only resolve on one thing—she would certainly not yield to mrs. freeman's request—nothing would induce her to promise to obey the rules of the school.
a story book, belonging to the school library, happened to be lying on a chair close to her own. she took it up, opened it, and began to read. the tale was sufficiently interesting to cause her to forget her troubles.
she had read for nearly an hour when the door of the room opened, and miss patience came in. miss patience was an excellent woman, but she took severe views of life; she emphatically believed in the young being trained; she thought well of punishments, and pined for the good old days when children were taught to make way for their elders, and not—as in the present degenerate times—to expect their elders to make way for them. miss patience just nodded toward bridget, and, sitting beside a high desk, took out an account book and opened it. miss o'hara felt more uncomfortable than ever when miss patience came into the room; her book ceased to entertain her, and the walls of her prison seemed to get narrower. she fidgeted on her chair, and jumped up several times to look out of the window. there was nothing of the least interest, however, going on in the yard at that moment. presently she beat an impatient tattoo on the glass with her fingers.
"don't do that, bridget," said miss patience; "you are disturbing me."
[pg 66]
bridget dropped back into her seat with a profound sigh. presently the dinner gong sounded, and miss patience put away her papers and accounts, and shutting up her desk, prepared to leave the room. bridget got up too. "i am glad that is dinner," she said; "i'm awfully hungry. may i go up to my room to tidy myself, miss patience?"
"no, bridget, you are to stay here; your dinner will be brought to you." bridget flushed crimson.
"i won't eat any dinner in this horrid room," she said; "i think i have been treated shamefully. if my dinner is sent to me i won't eat it."
"you can please yourself about that," said miss patience, in her calmest voice. she left the room, closing the door behind her.
bridget felt a wild desire to rush after miss patience, and defying all punishment and all commands, appear as usual in the dining room.
something, however, she could not tell what, restrained her from doing this. she sank back again in her chair; angry tears rose to her bright eyes, and burning spots appeared in her round cheeks.
the door was opened, and a neatly dressed servant of the name of marshall entered, bearing a dinner tray.
she was a tall, slight girl, fairly good-looking, and not too strong-minded.
"here, miss o'hara," she said good-naturedly, "here's a lovely slice of lamb; and i saved some peas for you. them young ladies always do make a rush on the peas, but i secured some in time. i'll bring you some cherry tart presently, miss, and some whipped cream. you eat a good dinner, miss, and forget your[pg 67] troubles; oh, dear! i don't like to see young ladies in punishment—and that i don't!"
while marshall was speaking she looked down at the pretty and rebellious young prisoner with marked interest.
"i'd make it up if i was you, miss," she said.
marshall, with all her silliness, was a shrewd observer of character. had the girl in disgrace been janet may or dorothy collingwood, she would have known far better than to presume to address her; but bridget was on very familiar terms with her old nurse and with many of the other servants at home, and it seemed quite reasonable to her that marshall should speak sympathetic words.
"i can't eat, marshall," she said. "i'm treated shamefully, and the very nicest dinner wouldn't tempt me. you can take it away, for i can't possibly touch a morsel. oh, dear! oh, dear! how i do wish i were at home again! what a horrid, horrid sort of place school is!"
"poor young lady!" said marshall. "anyone can see, miss o'hara, as you aint accustomed to mean ways; you has your spirit, and i doubt me if anyone can break it. you aint the sort for school—ef i may make bold to say as much, you aint never been brought under. that's the first thing they does at school; under you must go, whether you likes it or not. oh, dear, there's that bell, and it's for me—i must fly, miss—but i do, humble as i am, sympathize with you most sincere. you try and eat a bit of dinner, miss, do now—and i'll see if i can't get some asparagus for you by and by, and, at any rate, you shall have the tart and the whipped cream."
[pg 68]
"i can't eat anything, marshall," said bridget, shaking her head. "you are kind; i see by your face that you are very kind. when i'm let out of this horrid prison i'll give you some blue ribbon that i have upstairs, and a string of venetian beads. i dare say you're fond of finery."
"oh, lor, miss, you're too good, but there's that bell again; i must run this minute."
marshall departed, and bridget lifted the cover from her plate and looked at the nice hot lamb and green peas.
notwithstanding her vehement words, some decided pangs of hunger seized her as she saw the tempting food, she remembered, however, that in the old novels heroines in distress had never any appetite, and she resolved to die rather than touch food while she was treated in so disgraceful a manner.
she leant back, therefore, in her chair and reflected with a sad sort of pleasure on the sorrow which her father would feel when he learnt that she had almost died of hunger and exhaustion at this cruel school.
"he'll be sorry he sent me; he'll be sorry he listened to aunt kathleen," she said to herself.
a flash of self-pity filled her eyes, but there was some consolation in reflecting on the fact that no one could force her to eat against her will.
marshall reappeared with the asparagus and cherry tart.
she gave bridget a great deal of sympathy, adjured her to eat, shook her head over her, and having gained a promise that a pair of long suède gloves should be added to the ribbons and venetian beads, went away,[pg 69] having quite made up her mind to take bridget's part through thick and thin.
"it's most mournful to see her, poor dear!" she muttered. "she's fat and strong and hearty, but i know by the shape of her mouth that she's that obstinate she won't touch any food, and she won't give in to obey mrs. freeman, not if it's ever so. i do pity her, poor dear, and it aint only for the sake of the things she gives me. now let me see, aint there anyone i can speak to about her? oh, there's miss dorothy collingwood, she aint quite so 'aughty as the other young ladies; i think i will try her, and see ef she couldn't bring the poor dear to see reason."
the girls were leaving the dining room while these thoughts were flashing through marshall's mind. dorothy and janet may were walking side by side.
"miss collingwood," said marshall, in a timid whisper, "might i say a word to you, miss?"
"yes, marshall," said dorothy; she stopped. janet stopped also, and gave marshall a freezing glance.
"we haven't a moment to lose, dorothy," she said, "i want to speak to you alone before the rest of the committee arrive. that point with regard to evelyn percival must be settled. perhaps your communication can keep, marshall."
"no, miss, that it can't," said marshall, who felt as she expressed it afterward, "that royled by miss may's 'aughty ways." "i won't keep miss collingwood any time, miss, ef you'll be pleased to walk on."
janet was forced to comply, and dorothy exclaimed eagerly:
"now, marshall, what is it? how fussy and important you look!"
[pg 70]
"oh, miss, it's that poor dear young lady."
"what poor dear young lady?"
"miss bridget o'hara. she aint understood, and she's in punishment, pore dear; shut up in miss patience's dull parlor. mrs. freeman don't understand her. she aint the sort to be broke in, and if mrs. freeman thinks she'll do it, she's fine and mistook. the pore dear is that spirited she'd die afore she'd own herself wrong. do you think, miss collingwood, as she'd touch a morsel of her dinner? no, that she wouldn't! bite nor sup wouldn't pass her lips, although i tempted her with a lamb chop and them beautiful marrow peas, and asparagus and whipped cream and cherry tart. you can judge for yourself, miss, that a healthy young lady with a good, fine appetite must be bad when she refuses food of that sort!"
"i'm very sorry, marshall," said dorothy, "but miss o'hara has really been very naughty. you have heard, of course, of the carriage accident, and how nearly miss percival was hurt. it's kind of you to plead for miss o'hara, but she really does deserve rather severe punishment, and mrs. freeman is most kind, as well as just. i don't really see how i can interfere."
"are you coming, dorothy?" called janet may from the end of the passage.
"yes, in one minute, janet! i don't know what i'm to do, marshall," continued dorothy. "i should not venture to speak to mrs. freeman on the subject; she would be very, very angry."
"i don't mean that, miss; i mean that perhaps you'd talk to miss bridget, and persuade her to do whatever mrs. freeman says is right. i don't know what that is, of course, but you has a very kind way, miss dorothy,[pg 71] and ef you would speak to miss o'hara, maybe she'd listen to you."
"well, marshall, i'll see what i can do. i must join miss may now, for we have something important to decide, but i won't forget your words."
marshall had to be comforted with this rather dubious speech, and dorothy ran on to join janet.
"well," said janet, "what did that impertinent servant want? i hope you showed her her place, dorothy? the idea of her presuming to stop us when we were so busy!"
"she's not at all impertinent," said dorothy. "after all, janet, servants are flesh and blood, like the rest of us, and this poor marshall, although she's not the wisest of the wise, is a good-natured creature. what do you think she wanted?"
"how can i possibly guess?"
"she was interceding for bridget," said dorothy.
"bridget o'hara!" exclaimed janet, "that incorrigible, unpleasant girl? why did you waste your time listening to her?"
"i could not help myself," replied dorothy. "you know, of course, janet, what bridget did last night?"
"yes, yes, i know," replied janet, with a sneer; "she did something which shook the nerves of our beloved favorite. had anyone else given miss percival her little fright, i could have forgiven her!"
"janet, i wish you would not speak in that bitter way."
"i can't help it, my dear; i'm honest, whatever i am."
"but why will you dislike our dear evelyn?"
"we won't discuss the whys nor the wherefores; the fact remains that i do dislike her."
[pg 72]
"and you also dislike poor bridget? i can't imagine why you take such strong prejudices."
"as to disliking miss o'hara, it's more a case of despising; she's beneath my dislike."
"well, she's in trouble now," said dorothy, with a sigh. "i think you are very much mistaken in her, janet; she's a very original, clever, amusing girl. i find her tiresome at times, and i admit that she's dreadfully naughty, but it's the sort of naughtiness which comes from simply not knowing. the accident last night might have been a dreadful one, and bridget certainly deserves the punishment she has got; all the same;—i'm very sorry for her."
"i can't share your sorrow," replied janet. "if her punishment, whatever it is, deprives us of her charming society for a few days, it will be a boon to the entire school. i noticed that she was absent from dinner, and i will own i have not had a pleasanter meal for some time."
"well, marshall is unhappy about her," replied dorothy. "she said that bridget would not touch her dinner. i don't exactly know what mrs. freeman means to do about her, but the poor girl is a prisoner in miss patience's dull little sitting room for the present."
"hurrah! hurrah! long may she stay there! now, do let us drop this tiresome subject. we have only ten minutes to ourselves before the rest of the committee arrive, and that point with regard to evelyn percival must be arranged. come, dorothy, let us race each other to the lookout!"
