Chapter 8. Mrs. Ward's School

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_ CHAPTER VIII. MRS. WARD'S SCHOOL

It is to be regretted that Mr. Cardew spent a restless night. Mrs. Cardew, on the contrary, slept with the utmost peace. She trusted so absolutely in her husband's judgment and in in his power to do the very best he could on all possible occasions for her and hers that she was never deeply troubled about anything. Her dear husband must not be forced to live in London if he did not like to do so, and some arrangement must be made for the girls' home education if he could not see his way to sending them to school.

Great, therefore, was her astonishment on the following morning when he came hastily into her room.

"My dear," he said, "I am off to London for the day."

"What for?" she asked.

"I will tell you, darling, when I return to-night."

"Cyril, may I not come with you?"

"I think not, my love. Make all the young people as happy as you can. I'm just off to the station, in the motor-car."

Mr. Cardew left his wife's room. The girls were told at breakfast that their father had gone to London; but as this frequently happened, and was invariably connected with that business which they knew nothing whatever about, they were not keenly interested. As a matter of fact, they were much more absorbed in getting things ready for the entertainment of their friends; and in this Mrs. Cardew very heartily joined them. She proposed that during Maggie Howland's visit the five girls should have as happy a time together as possible; and as the weather was perfect the invariable picnics and gipsy teas were arranged for their benefit.

"You can all make yourselves happy here to-day, my darlings," said Mrs. Cardew, addressing Cicely and Merry. "To-morrow, when your father is here, the Tristrams, he and I, and you girls will have a very pleasant picnic to the Aldersleigh woods. We will arrange it to-day, for there is nothing your father enjoys more than a whole, long, happy day in the open air. I will speak to Mrs. Fairlight, and tell her to have all things in readiness for our picnic."

"Oh mummy, how good! how good!" said Merry, clasping her mother's hand. Then she added, "Mummy, is it true that Miss Beverley is never going to teach us any more?"

"I am afraid it is only too true, Merry; but this is holiday-time, darling; we needn't talk of your education just at present."

"Only, we must be educated--mustn't we, mother?"

"Of course, dearest. Your father will see to that."

Merry ran off to join her sister, and it is not too much to say that the whole of that glorious day was one of unalloyed pleasure. The Tristram girls were always delightful to the Cardew girls, but now that they were accompanied by Maggie Howland there was a great addition to their charm. Nevertheless, Maggie, with her purpose full in view, with her heart beating a little more quickly than usual when she heard that Mr. Cardew had gone to London, religiously avoided the subject of the life at Aylmer House. She felt, somehow, that she had done her part. A great deal of her own future depended on these two girls coming to Aylmer House. She would make use of them--large use of them--at school. She was fond of Molly and Belle; but they were poor. Maggie herself was poor. She wanted to have rich friends. The Cardews were rich. By their means she would defeat her enemy, Aneta Lysle, and establish herself not only in the school but with regard to her future life. Maggie felt that she could make herself indispensable to Cicely and Merry. Oh yes, they would certainly go to Aylmer House in September. She need not worry herself any further, therefore, with regard to that matter. Little would they guess how much she had really done toward this desirable goal, and how fortunate circumstances had been in aiding her to the accomplishment of her desire. It was enough for Maggie that they were certainly going. She could, therefore, give herself up to enjoyment.

With Maggie Howland enjoyment meant a very different thing from what it does to the average English girl. She enjoyed herself with all her heart and soul, without one single reservation. To see her face at such moments was to behold pure sunshine; to hear her voice was to listen to the very essence of laughter and happiness. She had a marvelous power of telling stories, and when she was happy she told them with such verve that all people within earshot hung on her words. Then she could improvise, and dance, and take off almost any character; in short, she was the life of every party who admitted her within their circle.

Meanwhile a rather tired and rather sad man found himself, very much against his will, in London. He said to himself, "This wonderful Mrs. Ward will not be at Aylmer House now. These are the holidays, and she will be probably miles away. I will go to see her. Yes, but she won't be in; that alone will clinch the matter. But first I will pay a visit to Lucia Lysle; she said she would be in London--she told my dear wife so. But Lucia is so erratic, it is most improbable that she either will be at home."

Mr. Cardew drove first of all to Lady Lysle's house in Hans Place. He asked if she was within, and, very much to his annoyance, the servant replied in the affirmative. He entered Lady Lysle's drawing-room feeling rather silly. The first person he saw there was a tall, slim, lovely girl, whom he did not recognize at first, but who knew him and ran up to him and introduced herself as Aneta.

"Why, my dear," he said, "how are you? How you have grown!"

"How is dear Cousin Sylvia, and how are Cicely and Merry?" asked Aneta. "Oh, I am very well indeed, Mr. Cardew; I don't suppose anybody could be anything but well who was lucky enough to be at Aylmer House."

"Mrs. Ward's school?" said Mr. Cardew, feeling rather shy and almost self-conscious.

"Of course. Don't you know Mrs. Ward, Mr. Cardew?"

"No, my dear, I don't."

"It's the most marvelous school in the world," said Aneta with enthusiasm. "I do wish you would send Cicely and Merry there. They would have a good time."

"Is your aunt in?" said Mr. Cardew, a little restlessly.

"Oh yes; she'll be down in a minute."

Lady Lysle now hurried into the room.

"How do you do, Cyril?" she said. "I didn't expect to find you in town just now. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I am rather anxious to have a chat with you," replied Mr. Cardew.

"Aneta darling, you had better leave us," said her aunt.

The girl went off with a light laugh. "Auntie," she said, "I've just been telling Mr. Cardew that he ought to send Cicely and Merry to Aylmer House." She closed the door as she made this parting shot.

"As a matter of fact, I agree with Aneta," said Lady Lysle. "A couple of years at that splendid school would do the girls no end of good."

Mr. Cardew was silent for a minute. "I may as well confess something to you, Lucia," he said then.

"What is it, Cyril?"

"I have by no means made up my mind; but we are very much annoyed at the illness of our daily governess Miss Beverley, and at the girls' music-master Mr. Bennett removing to London. So I just thought I would ask you a question or two about this wonderful Mrs. Ward. I don't suppose for a single moment I should dream of sending the children there; and, besides, she is not in London now, is she?"

"Yes, she is," replied Lady Lysle. Mr. Cardew felt at that moment that he hated Mrs. Ward. "She came to see me only last evening. She is leaving town to-morrow; but if by any chance you would like to go and see her, and thus judge of the school for yourself--it would commit you to nothing, of course--she will, I know, be at home all this morning."

"Dear, dear!" said Mr. Cardew. "How very provoking!"

"What do you mean, Cyril?"

"Nothing, nothing, of course, Lucia. But if, as you say, the school is so popular, there will be no vacancies, for I think some one told me that Mrs. Ward only took a limited number of pupils."

"There are two vacancies at the present moment," said Lady Lysle in her calm voice, "although they are likely to be filled up immediately, for Mrs. Ward has had many applications; but then she is exceedingly particular, and will only take girls of high birth and of very distinguished character."

"Doubtless she has filled up the vacancies by this morning," said Mr. Cardew, rising with some alacrity. "Well, thank you, Lucia. As I am in town--came up on business you know--I may as well just have a look at Aylmer House and Mrs. Ward. It will satisfy my dear wife."

"Why, surely you don't for a minute really intend to send the girls there?" said Lady Lysle with a superior smile.

"I cannot tell what I may do. When a man is distracted, and when a valuable daily governess breaks down, and--and--don't question me too closely, Lucia, and keep our little interview to yourself. As I have just said, nothing will probably come of this; but I will go and see the lady just to satisfy myself."

"Aneta will be delighted if you do send the girls to Aylmer House," was Lady Lysle's last word.

She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Cardew found himself turning rather red. He left her, called a hansom, and got into it.

"Of course the vacancies will be filled up," he said to himself as he was driving in the direction of South Kensington. He further thought, "Although that good Mrs. Ward is remaining for such an unconscionable time in town, she will very probably be out this morning. If she is out that puts an end to everything; but even if she is in, she must ave filled up her vacancies. Then I shall be able to return to the Manor with a quiet mind. I'll have done my best, and the thing will be taken out of my hands. Dear little Merry! I didn't like that discontent on her sweet face. Ah, well, she can't guess what school is like. It's not home; but I suppose the educational advantages would be greater, and a man must sacrifice himself for his children. Odd what that queer little Miss Howland told me last night: that I was approaching a deed of self-sacrifice. She's a queer girl, but quite nice; and Aneta is a charming creature. I could never desire even one of my own precious girls to look nicer than Aneta does. Well, here I am. Now, then, what will Fate decide?"

Mr. Cardew sprang from the hansom, desired the man to wait, ran up some low steps, and rang the bell at the front door of a stately mansion.

A smiling, very bright-looking maid-servant opened it for him.

"Is Mrs. Ward, within?" questioned Cardew.

"Yes, sir."

"Good heavens!" murmured Cardew under his breath.

"Is she disengaged, and can she give me a few moments of her time?" continued the much-disappointed gentleman.

"Certainly, sir. Will you come into the drawing-room? What name shall I say?"

Cardew produced one of his cards.

"Have the goodness to tell your mistress that if she is particularly engaged I can "--he hesitated--"call another time."

"I will tell her, sir; but Mrs. Ward is not particularly engaged. She will see you, I am sure, directly."

The girl withdrew, and Cardew sank into a low chair.

He had to wait a few minutes, and during that time had abundant leisure to look round the beautiful room in which he found himself. It was so furnished as to resemble a fresh country room. The wall-paper was white; the pictures were all water-colors, all original, and all the works of well-known artists. They mostly represented country scenes, but there were a few admirable portraits of charming girls just in the heyday of youth and happiness. The floor was of polished oak and had a large pale-blue drugget in the center, which could be rolled up at any moment if an impromptu dance was desirable. The large windows had boxes of flowers outside, which were fresh and well kept, and had evidently been recently watered, for some sparkling drops which looked almost like summer rain still glistened on them. The room itself was also decked with flowers in every available corner, and all these flowers were fresh and beautifully arranged. They were country flowers--and of course roses, roses everywhere. There were also great bowls of mignonette and large glass vases filled with sweet peas.

The air of the room was fresh and full of delicate perfume. Mr. Cardew had to admit to himself that this was a room in which the most refined young ladies in the world might sit with pleasure and profit. There was a shelf for books running round the dado, and the books therein were good of their kind and richly and handsomely bound. There were no small tables anywhere. Mr. Cardew was glad of that--he detested small tables; but there was a harp standing close to the magnificent grand piano, and several music stands, and a violin case on a chair near by.

The furniture of the room was covered with a cool, fresh chintz. In short, it was a charming room, quite different from the rooms at Meredith Manor, which, of course, were old and magnificent and stately; but it had a refreshing, wholesome look about it which, in spite of himself, Mr. Cardew appreciated.

He had just taken in the room and its belongings when the door was opened and a lady of about thirty-five years of age entered. She was dressed very simply in a long dress made in a sort of Empire fashion. The color was pale blue, which suited her calm, fair face, her large, hazel-brown eyes, and her rich chestnut hair to perfection. She came forward swiftly.

"I am Mrs. Ward," she said, and held out her hand.

Mr. Cardew considered himself a connoisseur as regards all women, and he was immediately impressed by a certain quality in that face: a mingling of sweetness and power, of extreme gentleness and extreme determination. There was a lofty expression in the eyes, too, and round the mouth, which further appealed to him; and the hands of the lady were perfect--they were white, somewhat long, with tapering fingers and well-kept nails. There was one signet ring on the left hand, worn as a guard to the wedding-ring--that was all.

Mr. Cardew was a keen observer, and he noted these things at a glance.

"I have come to talk to you, Mrs. Ward," he said; "and, if you will forgive me, I should like to be quite frank with you."

"There is nothing I desire better," said Mrs. Ward in her exceedingly high-bred and sympathetic voice.

That voice reminded Cardew of Maggie Howland, and yet he felt at once that it was infinitely superior to hers.

"Sit down, won't you, Mr. Cardew?" said Mrs. Ward, and she set him the example by seating herself in a low chair as she spoke.

"I hope I am not taking up too much of your time," he said; "for, if so, as I said to your servant, I can call again."

"By no means," said Mrs. Ward; "I have nothing whatever to do this morning. I am, therefore, quite at your service. You will tell me what you wish?" she said in that magnetic voice of hers.

"The fact is simply this," he said. "My friend Tristram, who is rector of Meredith, in Warwickshire, is sending his two daughters to your school."

"Yes," said Mrs. Ward gently. "Molly and Isabel are coming to me next term."

"I am Tristram's near neighbor," said Mr. Cardew, "I live at Meredith Manor. At the present moment the Tristram girls have another pupil of yours staying with them--Miss Howland."

"Yes," said Mrs. Ward very quietly.

"Lady Lysle's niece Aneta is also one of your pupils."

"That is true, Mr. Cardew."

"Lady Lysle is my wife's cousin."

Mrs. Ward bowed very slightly.

"I will come to the point now, Mrs. Ward. I am the father of two little girls. They are of the same age as Molly and Isabel Tristram; that is, they are both just sixteen. They are twins. They are my only children. Some day they will be rich, for we have no son, and they will inherit considerable property." Mrs. Ward looked scarcely interested at this. "Hitherto," continued Mr. Cardew, "I have stoutly opposed school-life for my children, and in consequence they have been brought up at home, and have had the best advantages that could be obtained for them in a country life. Things went apparently all right until two or three days ago, when I discovered that my girl--her name is Meredith; we call her Merry for short--was exceedingly anxious to change her home-life for school-life. At the same time, our excellent daily governess and the music-master who taught the children have been obliged to discontinue their work. The girls are at an age when education is essential; and, although I hate schools, I have come here to talk over the possibility of your receiving them."

"Had you delayed coming to me, Mr. Cardew, until this evening I should have had no vacancy, for at the present moment I have twelve applications for the two vacancies which are to be filled at Aylmer House. But do you really wish me to consider the proposal of taking your girls when you hate school-life for young ladies?"

Mr. Cardew could not help smiling. "Then you are not anxious to have them?"

"Certainly not, unless you yourself and Mrs. Cardew most earnestly desire to send them to me. Suppose, before we go any further, that I take you over the house."

"Thank you," said Mr. Cardew in a tone of relief.

Mrs. Ward rose immediately, and for the next hour the head-mistress and the owner of Meredith Manor went from one dainty room to another. They visited the gymnasium; they entered the studio. All the different properties of the music-room were explained to the interested visitor. The excellent playground was also inspected.

By-and-by, when Mr. Cardew returned to the drawing-room, Mrs. Ward said, "My number of pupils is limited. You have seen for yourself that sisters are provided with a room together, and that girls who are not related have rooms to themselves. The house is well warmed in winter, and at all seasons of the year I keep it bright and cheerful with flowers and everything that a judicious expenditure of money can secure. I have my own special plan for educating my girls. I believe in personal influence. In short, Mr. Cardew, I am not at all ashamed to tell you that I believe in my own influence. I have never yet met a girl whom I could not influence."

"If by any chance my Cicely and Merry come to you," said Mr. Cardew, "you will find them--I may at least say it--perfect ladies in word and thought and deed."

Mrs. Ward bowed. "I could receive no others within this establishment," she said. "If," continued Mrs. Ward, "you decide to entrust your daughters to me, I will leave no stone unturned to do my best for them, to educate them in a three-fold capacity: to induce their minds to work as God meant them to work--without overtoil, without undue haste, and yet with intelligence and activity; to give them such exercises as will promote health to their bodies; and to teach them, above all things, to live for others, not for themselves. Please, Mr. Cardew, give me no answer now, but think it over. The vacancies at Aylmer House will remain at your disposal until four o'clock this afternoon. Will you send me before that hour a telegram saying 'Yes' or 'No'?"

"I thank you," said Mr. Cardew. He wrung Mrs. Ward's hand and left the house.

The hall was as spacious and nearly as beautiful as the drawing-room, and the pretty, bright parlor-maid smiled at the gentleman as he went out. Mrs. Ward remained for a time alone after her visitor had left.

"I should like to have those girls," she said to herself. "Any girls related to such a splendid, lofty character as Aneta could not but be welcome to me. Their poor father, he will feel parting with them; but I have no doubt that I shall receive them next September at this house."

The thought had scarcely passed through her mind before there came a brisk ring at the front door, and Lady Lysle and Aneta were announced.

"Oh, dear Mrs. Ward!" said Lady Lysle, speaking in her quick, impulsive manner, "have you seen my dear friend and cousin, Mr. Cardew?"

"And are the girls coming to the school?" asked Aneta.

"I have seen Mr. Cardew," said Mrs. Ward. "He is a very charming man. He will decide whether he will send his daughters here or not during the course of to-day."

"But," said Lady Lysle, "didn't you urge him?"

"No, dear friend; I never urge any one to put a girl in my care. I should feel myself very wrong in doing so. If Mr. Cardew thinks well of what he has seen here he may send his daughters to me, but I certainly did nothing to urge him."

"Oh dear!" said Aneta, "I should so like them to come. You can't think, Mrs. Ward, what nice people the Cardews are; and the girls--they do want school-life. Don't they, auntie darling?"

"Such a school as this would do them a world of good," said Lady Lysle.

"Well, I really hope they will come," said Mrs. Ward; "but I quite understand their father's objections. They are evidently very precious treasures, and he has the sort of objection which exists in the minds of many country gentlemen to sending his girls to school."

"Ah," said Aneta, "but there are schools and schools!"

"The girls will be exceedingly rich," said Lady Lysle. "Their mother was a Meredith and belonged to an old county family. She inherits vast wealth and the old family place. Their father is what may be termed a merchant-prince. By-and-by all the money of the parents will go to these girls. They are very nice children, but know nothing whatever of the world. It seems to me a cruel thing that they should be brought up with no knowledge of the great world where they must eventually live."

"I hope they will come here," said Mrs. Ward. "Great wealth means great responsibility. They can make magnificent use of their money. I should be interested to have them."

"I know you would, my dear friend," said Lady Lysle, "and they are really quite sweet girls. Now, come, Aneta; we must not keep Mrs. Ward any longer."

When her visitors had left her Mrs. Ward still remained in the pleasant drawing-room. She sank into a low chair, folded her hands in her lap, and remained very still. Although she was only thirty-five years of age, she had been a widow for over ten years. She had married when quite a young girl, and had lost her husband and child before she was five-and-twenty. It was in her generous and noble nature to love most passionately and all too well. For a time after her terrible trouble she scarcely know how to bear her grief. Then she took it to the one place where such sorrow can be borne--namely, to the foot of the throne of God; and afterwards it occurred to her to devote her life to the education of others. She was quite well-off, and did not need to work for her living. But work, to a nature such as hers, was essential. She also needed the sympathy of others, and the love of others; and so, aided by her friends, her small but most select school in South Kensington was started.

From the very first it was a success. It was unlike many other schools, for the head-mistress had broader and nobler views of life. She loved all her girls, and they all loved her; but it was impossible for her not to like some girls more than others, and of all the girls at present at her school Aneta Lysle was the one she really loved best. There was also, it is sad to relate, a girl there whom she did not love, and that girl was Maggie Howland. There was nothing whatever with regard to Maggie that her mistress could lay hold of. She was quite aware of the girl's fascination, and of her powerful influence over her schoolfellows. Nevertheless, she never thought of her without a sense of discomfort.

Maggie was one of the girls who were educated at Aylmer House for a very low fee; for Mrs. Ward was quite rich enough and generous enough to take girls who could not afford her full terms for very much less. Maggie's fees, therefore, were almost nominal, and no one knew this fact better than Maggie herself and her mother, Mrs. Howland. None of her schoolfellows knew, for she learned just what they did, and had precisely the same advantages. She was treated just like the others. No one could guess that her circumstances were different. And certainly Maggie would never tell, but none the less did she in her heart hate her position.

As a matter of fact, Molly and Isabel Tristram were also coming to the school on specially low terms; but no one would know this. Maggie, however, suspected it, and intended, if necessary, to make the fact an added power over her young friends when they all assembled at Aylmer House.

"Yes," said Mrs. Ward, half-aloud, half to herself, "I don't quite trust Maggie Howland. But I cannot possibly dismiss her from the school. I may win her round to a loftier standard of life, but at present there is no doubt she has not that high ideal in view which I think my other girls aim at."

Between three and four o'clock that day Mrs. Ward received a telegram from Mr. Cardew. It contained the following words:

"After consideration, I have made up my mind to do myself the great honor of confiding my girls to your care. Their mother and I will write to you fully in a day or two."

Mrs. Ward smiled when she received the telegram. "I will do my best for those children," she said to herself. _

Read next: Chapter 9. The News

Read previous: Chapter 7. Discontent

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