Dumps – A Plain Girl

We went there in high spirits. Everything was joyful that day. Here more and more presents awaited us. Really it was marvellous. Alex managed to whisper to me, “Have you no eye for contrasts?”

“Contrasts?” I asked, turning round and giving him a flashing glance.

“Between this Christmas and last,” he said.

I felt annoyed. I had been trying so very hard to keep in the best of humours – to be good, if I, poor naughty Dumps, could really and truly be good – and now the spirit of naughtiness was once more awakened. Oh, of course, this was a glorious time, and I ought to be delighted; but the ache had returned to my heart, the longing to be in my own little room looking at my mother’s miniature, the wish for the old desolation when she, as I said to myself, had been honoured and her memory respected.

I stood in a brown study for a minute or two, and as I stood thus Hermione came up to me and asked me if I would not like to go away with her to her room. I was very glad of the reprieve. She took my hand and we ran upstairs. When we found ourselves in her pretty room she made me sit down in the cosiest chair she could find, poked the fire, and squatted herself on the hearth-rug. She wore a lovely dress of very pale Liberty green silk, and looked, with her aristocratic small face and beautiful hair, like a picture.

“Well, Dumps,” she said, “and so you have solved the mystery?”

“You knew it at that time?” I said.

“Knew it? Of course I did! It was the greatest amazement to me when Miss Donnithorne said, ‘You are not to tell her; her father doesn’t wish it to be known.’”

“Then she did not want to have it kept a secret?”

“She?” said Hermione. “Poor darling! it was her greatest desire to tell you – in fact, she had quite made up her mind to do so – but she received a most urgent letter from your father saying that he would infinitely prefer none of you to know until after the ceremony. You mustn’t blame her.”

“I think it was exceedingly wrong to deceive me,” I said.

“It was not her fault; you must not blame her.”

I was silent. On the whole, my step-mother’s conduct could not seem quite so black if she herself had been forced to act as she did. Nevertheless, I felt uncomfortable.

Hermione glanced at me.

“You look very much better,” she said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not that you are dressed so wonderfully well – of course, I shouldn’t dream of making any comments with regard to your dress; but then you were quite exquisitely attired the last time you came here. Mother said she had never seen anything so chic in all her life as that little dark-blue costume with the grey fur; and it suited you so well.”

I was wearing one of my summer dresses which my step-mother had altered for me shortly after she came to us. It was made of pale-blue crepon, which had been rather ugly, but she had put on a beautiful lace tucker, and had arranged the skirt so that my growing length of limb was not so discernible.

“It isn’t your dress,” continued Hermione – “never mind about it – nobody cares what any one else wears on Christmas Day – but it is your face.”

“And what about that?” I said.

“You are so much better-looking.”

I felt myself flushing.

“I wish you wouldn’t laugh at me, Hermione. It isn’t kind. I can’t help being plain.”

“No,” said Hermione, putting her head a little on one side. “Nothing will ever give you remarkably good eyes, or much of a nose, or anything special of a mouth; but you have got a complexion now, and your cheeks have filled out.”

“Oh, I was always fat,” I said.

“Well, but they look different,” she said; “I can’t tell why.”

I knew, but I would not enlighten her. I knew that it was the excellent food that I now had, and the warm rooms to live in, and the good influence of a comfortable home. I was not going to betray myself, however.

“You must be having a jolly time,” said Hermione. “Oh! if anything were to give me a step-mother, I should pine and long for a sort of Grace Donnithorne.”

“She is a dear,” I said.

Hermione looked at me very gravely.

“Dumps,” she said, “you don’t like her in your heart.”

“Hermione, how dare you say it?”

“You know you don’t. The moment I saw you I was certain of it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t read people like that,” I said.

“I saw it, and I was sorry; for the fact is, you have only known Grace for a little – a very little – time.”

“For two months,” I said.

“And I have known her ever since I have known anybody at all.”

“Then, of course, it is natural that you should be fond of her.”

“Not at all. There are other people I have known, so to speak, from my birth. There is old Mr Chatterton, and there is Mrs Frazer. Now, I detest fussy Mrs Frazer, and I run away a mile from Mr Chatterton. It isn’t the time I have known Grace, but because she is what she is.”

“Well, I suppose,” I said, “you are going to give me a lecture about her?”

“No, I am not; but I am simply going to say this – that you are in rare luck to have got the most amiable woman in the whole of Essex to be your step-mother. And then, Dumps dear, she is so jolly rich! She can give you all sorts of comforts. And what is more, she is awfully fond of you; she said so.”

“Fond of me? She couldn’t be!”

“She is, poor darling! She said so in such a loving and sad way just now. I know why she is sad; it is because you won’t return her love.”

“Never mind,” I said, jumping to my feet. I went over to the window and looked out.

“Hermione,” I said, “let us talk of something else.”

“Of course. For instance, how will you like your new school?”

“What new school?”

I sprang towards her; I took her by her shoulders; I turned her round.

“Oh! have I let the cat out of the bag?” said Hermione. “Didn’t you know you were going?”

“There!” I said; “and yet you tell me to like her. Has she been planning this?”

“It is awfully wrong of me to speak of it; but I thought, of course, you knew.”

“But I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, won’t you, though? Now look here, Dumps. You mustn’t make a fuss; you must be patient; you must – you really must – for I am going with you. It’s to a jolly, jolly school in Paris. We’ll have a nice time – I know we shall.”

“Paris?” I said.

Now, what London girl doesn’t own to a secret hankering for Paris – Paris the gay, the fascinating, the beautiful? Nevertheless, after my first shock of pleasure I was very wary. I said after a pause, “Perhaps you had better not say any more.”

“No, I won’t, as you didn’t know. It’s very odd; you’ll be told probably to-morrow.”

“I suppose so,” I said.

There came a knock at the door. Hermione said, “Come in;” and Augusta intruded her face.

“It seems a great pity you should be here,” she said. “I thought I’d tell you.”

“Come in, Miss Moore; make yourself at home,” said Hermione.

“Thank you so much,” said Augusta, “but I couldn’t come in.”

“And why not?” asked Hermione.

“Because he is talking – he is lecturing downstairs. We are all listening. – I thought it would be such a frightful deprivation for you, Dumps, not to hear him. I rushed upstairs; he was blowing his nose – I think he has a cold. I must go back at once. Do come down, if you don’t want to miss it. It’s about the time of Herodotus; it’s most fascinating – fascinating!” She banged the door after her and rushed away.

“Is that poor girl mad?” said Hermione slowly.

“I think so,” I answered. “She has conceived a violent worshipping attachment to father. She thinks he is the soul of genius.”

“Well, he is, you know. You, as his daughter, can really hold a most distinguished position; and now that you have got such a step-mother as Miss Donnithorne, and you yourself are to be sent to – oh, I forgot, that subject is taboo. Well, never mind; when you come out you will have quite a good time, Dumps, I can tell you. Your step-mother means to do the right thing both by you and the boys. You will have a splendid time, so just do cheer up and be thankful for the blessings which Providence has showered upon your head.”

Part 2, Chapter V

A Quiet Talk

Christmas Day came to an end, and the very next morning, when I was alone with my step-mother, I asked her what Hermione meant by her words.

“Oh, she has told you?” said Mrs Grant.

She was sitting by the fire in the little drawing-room; the stuffed birds and the stuffed animals surrounded us, but the room was never close, and it had the faint, delicious smell of cedar-wood which had fascinated me so much on the occasion of my first visit.

“Sit down, Dumps,” she said, holding out her hand to take one of mine.

“But please tell me,” I said.

“Well, yes, it has been arranged. Your father would like it, and so would I. You go on the 21st of January. It is a very nice school, just beyond the Champs Élysées. You will be well taught, and I think the change will do you good.”

“You suggested it, didn’t you?” I said.

“Yes, naturally.”

“Why naturally? I am his child.”

“My dear, you know his character; he is so absorbed in those marvellous things which occupy his great brain that he hasn’t time – ”

“Oh, I know,” I said bitterly; “he never had any time, this wonderful father of ours, to attend to us, his children.”

“Dear, he has given you into my care, and, believe me, I love you.”

“I believe you do,” I said in a gentle voice.

“Some day, Rachel, I am sure you will love me.”

I was silent.

“Tell me about the school,” I said.

“I know all about it, for it belongs to a very special friend of mine, and I am certain you will be looked after and all your best interests promoted.”

“And Hermione Aldyce goes too?”

“Yes; she is a very nice girl, and a special friend of mine.”

“I know.”

“You will, I am sure, Dumps, do your utmost to attend to your studies. You will soon be sixteen; my intention is that you should remain at the French school for two years, and then come back in time to enjoy some of the pleasures of life – some of the pleasures, dear, as well as the responsibilities, for we never can dissever one from the other.”

I was silent. Why did I like her and yet dislike her? I had thought the day before when Hermione spoke of school that I should wildly rebel, but as I sat there looking at her placid face it did not occur to me to rebel. I said after a minute, “Step-mother, until I love you better, may I call you by that name?”

“I have given you leave,” she said in a low tone.

“I have something to confess,” I said.

“What is that?” she asked.

“I did not buy any thing useful out of the ten pounds you gave me.”

“Your father’s dress allowance?”

“You know it was yours.”

“Your father’s,” she repeated.

“I will tell you how I spent it,” I said; and then I described to her all about the ribbons and the chiffons and the gloves and the stockings and the handkerchiefs.

“The stockings were needful,” she said, “and so were the gloves and handkerchiefs. So much ribbon was scarcely essential, but it can be passed over. The hat you bought was vulgar, so I trust you will not wear it again.”

“What?” I said. “That lovely green hat with the bird-of-Paradise in it?”

“It is very unsuitable to a girl of your age.”

“I got it in one of the smartest shops in Regent Street.”

“Anything that is unsuitable is vulgar, Dumps. I hope you will soon understand that for yourself.”

“Oh, I have a great deal to learn,” I said, with sudden humility.

“You have, my dear; and when you take that fact really to heart you will begin to learn in grave reality, and you will be all that your father and I long to make you.”

“But I’m not the least like father; he could never appreciate me, for I am so different from him. If, for instance, I were like Augusta – ”

“I wonder, Dumps, if it would greatly distress you if Augusta also went to the French school?”

“What?” I said. “Augusta! But surely she cannot afford it?”

“I think it could be arranged. I take an interest in her, poor child! There is no doubt she is wonderfully clever; but just at present she is very one-sided in all her views. Her intellect is somewhat warped by her having all her aspirations and desires forced into one channel.”

“Then, step-mother, you are going to support her?”

“Certainly not. It is true I may make it possible for those who could not otherwise afford it. I have spoken to her mother on the subject, and perhaps her mother can be helped by some of her relations; it would certainly be the making of Augusta.”

“You are wonderfully kind,” I said.

“What am I put into the world for except to help others?”

“Is it true,” I asked suddenly, and I laid my hand on her lap, “that you are very rich?”

“Who told you that?” she said, the colour coming into her face. She looked at me in a distressed way.

“Only I want to know.”

“All I can tell you in reply to your question is this: that whatever money God has given me is to be spent not on myself but for Him – for Him and for those whom I am privileged to help. I do not want to talk of riches, for it is impossible for a child like you, with your narrow experience, to understand that money is a great gift; it is a talent little understood by many; nevertheless, one of the most precious of all. Few who have money quite know how to spend it worthily.”

Alex, Charley, and Von Marlo bounded into the room.

“We can skate, if you don’t mind,” said Charley, “on the round pond a mile from here. We didn’t bring our skates with us, but there are jolly nice ones in Chelmsford. Do you mind?” he asked.

“Certainly not, dear,” said Mrs Grant; “and what is more, if there is good skating I am going myself. What do you say, Dumps? Do you know how to skate?”

“No,” I answered. “How could I? I never learnt.”

“Few girls can skate,” said Charley.

“This girl shall learn,” said Mrs Grant. “Come, come, children; we’ll go off as fast as ever we can, to get the best skates to be obtained.”

Part 2, Chapter VI

Learning to Skate

Certainly my step-mother was a patient teacher, and certainly also there were few more awkward girls than I, Rachel Grant, on that afternoon. The stumbles I made, the way I sprawled my legs, the many falls I had, notwithstanding my step-mother’s care! Both Alex and Charley laughed immoderately. It was Von Marlo, however, who in the end came to the rescue.

“Mrs Grant,” he said, “you are dead-tired. I have been able to skate ever since I was able to walk. May I take Miss Dumps right round the pond? Will you trust her to me?”

“Oh yes, do let him!” I said.

My step-mother agreed, and a minute later she was flying away herself as though on wings, with Charley on one side of her and Alex on the other. Notwithstanding that she was a stout person, she looked very graceful on the ice. She could cut figures, and she set herself to teach the boys how to manage these exquisite and bird-like movements.

Meanwhile Von Marlo and I skated away after a time with a certain amount of success. He was taller and stronger than my step-mother, and he taught me a Dutch way of managing the business; and after a time I was able to go forward with the help of his strong hand, and so the afternoon did not turn out so very disastrous after all.

As we were going home Von Marlo asked if he might walk with me. Mrs Grant was standing near; she said “Certainly,” and we started off together.

“Not that way,” he said; “I don’t want to go straight back. We have nearly two hours before dinner, and I want you to take me a very long way round.”

“But I don’t know Chelmsford specially well,” I replied.

“Oh, I’ve been poking about a bit by myself,” he answered. “We’ll just walk up this road to the left, then plunge into the woods; they look so perfect with the snow on the ground.”

I took his hand, and we walked along bravely. I was warmed with the skating; my cheeks were cold; my heart was beating heartily; I felt a curious exhilaration which snowy air and even most badly executed skating gives to every one.

When we entered the woods Von Marlo slackened his steps and looked full at me.

“You are as happy as the day is long,” he said.

I made no reply.

“If you are not you ought to be so,” was his next remark.

I turned then and stood quite still and faced him.

“You make too much fuss,” I said. “If you and Alex and Charley would leave the subject alone I might get on better with her. But you never will leave the subject alone. When I speak to her you all three look at me.”

“I didn’t know that the others looked; I couldn’t help it, you know,” said Von Marlo.

“But why should you do it? After all, you know much less than the others do.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Von Marlo held out his hand and took mine. “I want to say something to you, Dumps. You are quite the nicest and pluckiest girl I have ever come across. I know lots of girls at The Hague, and they are pretty in their way; but I never saw anybody quite so pretty as you are.”

“Oh Von!” I said, and I burst out laughing. “I do wish you wouldn’t talk rubbish like that. Why, you know that I am very – very – downright ugly.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” he replied. “To me, a face like yours, so round, and eyes so grey, and – well, I think you are beautiful.”

I saw at last that he was speaking the truth. Perhaps I was the Dutch style. I knew I should never certainly be the English style. After a moment his words were soothing. It was well if even a Dutchman could think me nice.

“And you are so brave,” he continued. “Looks don’t matter very much, of course. They do a little, but you are so plucky, and you have always been so good at home, although now you are just having a rare chance of turning yourself into – ”

“Well?” I said, for he stopped.

“Into a vixen.”

“Oh dear!” I cried.

“Yes; you know you are not what you used to be, and it is because of the best woman in the world. So I do want you to try – ”

“Stop!” I said. “I won’t do what you want, so now let us change the subject.”

The colour came into his face.

“Perhaps,” he said, “the best thing I can do is to tell you about my own step-mother.”

“Have you one?” I asked.

I looked at him with very keen interest. “Yes. I do not remember anybody else. I don’t remember my own mother.”

“Oh, well, that is different.”

“I do not think it is so different, for in some ways it is harder for me than for you.”

“Isn’t she nice. Von?” I asked.

“She means to be,” he said; “but she is severe. She doesn’t love me as English school because I am not wanted at home.”

“Poor Von!” I said. “And have you ever been rude to her?”

“Oh no,” he answered; “I couldn’t be that – my father wouldn’t allow it.”

He was silent for a bit, and so was I silent. “What is she like, Von?” I asked.

“She is what you English would call plain. She is very stout, with a good figure, a high colour, and black eyes, only they’re rather small. She is an excellent housewife, and makes good dinners, and sees to the house and the linen and the servants. My father thinks a great deal of her.”

“And you have brothers and sisters – half brothers and sisters?” I said.

“Oh yes; a great many. My step-mother loves them best, of course, but that cannot be wondered at.”

“No,” I answered, “And, Von Marlo,” I continued, “what do you call her?”

“Mamma,” he replied.

“How can you?”

“I couldn’t say anything else. I have known her since I was a tiny boy.”

“With you it is different – it is truly,” I repeated. “I am never going to call my step-mother mamma or mother, nor anything which would give her the place of my own mother.”

“I do not believe a name matters,” said Von Marlo; “but you ought to be good to her, for she is wonderfully good to you.”

We finished our walk. I liked him and yet I did not like him. I felt annoyed with the boys. I saw during dinner that they were watching me when I spoke to my step-mother. Alex would raise his head and glance in her direction, and once when I forgot to reply to her Charley gave me a kick under the table. As to Von Marlo, he seemed to have done his part when he had that walk with me, for he did not take much notice of me, although I was certain he was listening.

Now, this was the sort of thing to fret a girl. How could I be good when I was certain that I was surrounded by spies? I thought my father’s abstracted manner quite refreshing beside the intent and watchful ways of the three boys. And as to Augusta, I almost learned to love her. She saw nothing wrong in my step-mother for the very reason that she did not see her at all. Whenever she raised her eyes, those deep-set dark eyes of hers would fly to the Professor. When he spoke she bent eagerly forward. Once he began one of his endless dissertations; the boys were talking about something else. Augusta said “Hush!” in a most peremptory manner, and my father stopped.

“Thank you,” he said, and he gave her a gracious bow. I really thought for a moment I was at school, and that one of the prefects was calling the class to order. “Thank you, Miss – ”

“Augusta Moore is my name.”

She uttered it quickly, and with a sort of sob in her voice.

“Oh, go on, please – go on! It is of the utmost importance.”

“Indeed!” he replied, colouring. “I should not have thought you understood.”

“Oh, I do, sir – I do! I love the great Herodotus – the father of all history, is he not?”

“Yes, child.”

Really I believe, for the first time in his whole life, my father was aware of Augusta’s society; he now addressed his remarks to her, evidently thinking the rest of us of no importance. He put questions to her which she answered; he drew her out; she had an immense amount of miscellaneous knowledge with regard to the old classics. Her hour had come; her cheeks blazed; her eyes were bright; she was lifted off her feet, metaphorically, by my father’s appreciation of her talents.

“A remarkable girl,” he said afterwards when I was alone in the room. “A friend of yours, Dumps?”

“One of my schoolfellows,” I said.

Then I took hold of his hands.

“Father!”

“Well, Dumps?”

“I want to speak to you.”

“Yes, my dear.”

“It was very good of you to do what you did for me, and now you are going to send me to a school in Paris.”

“Indeed I am not,” said my father.

“You are,” I replied; “it is all arranged. My step-mother said so.”

“Grace, bless her! She has a great many schemes on hand. But I think you will have discovered for yourself, Dumps, that I cannot possibly do such a thing. Indeed, I don’t particularly care for the French mode of education. If you must go abroad, go to Germany. In Germany we find the greatest thinkers of the last three centuries. Put yourself under them, my dear, and it is possible you may come back an intelligent woman.”

I did not say much more. By-and-by I went up to my room. Augusta had not come upstairs. I had a few moments to myself. I locked the door and flung myself on my bed. Oh, what a silly, silly Dumps I was! for I cried as though my heart would break. It was not father who was sending me to the school in Paris; it was my new mother – my step-mother. Was I beholden to her for everything? Of course, she had bought me the clothes, and she had provided all the new and delightful things in the house. Could I take her gifts and stand aloof from her? It seemed impossible.

“I cannot love her,” I said to myself. “She is nice, but she ever and ever stands between me and my own mother. I cannot – cannot love her.”

“Then if you don’t love her,” said a voice – an inward voice – “you ought not to take her gifts. The two things are incompatible. Either love her with all your heart, and take without grudging what she bestows upon you, or refuse her gifts.”

I was making up my mind. I sat up on my elbow and thought out the whole problem. Yes, I must – I would refuse. I would find father some day when he was alone, and tell him that I, Rachel, intended to live on the little money he could spare me; that I would still go to the old school, and wear shabby dresses. Anything else would be a slight on my own mother, I thought.

Part 2, Chapter VII

A New Régime

Little did I know, however, of the changes that were ahead. Hitherto my step-mother had been all that was sweetly kind and lovingly indulgent; no doubt she was still kind, and in her heart of hearts still indulgent; but when we returned home after our pleasant few days at Hedgerow House her manner altered. She took the reins of government with a new sort of decision; she ordered changes in the household management without consulting me about them; she got in even more servants, and added to the luxuries of the house. She invited friends to call, and went herself to pay visits. She ordered a neat brougham, which came for her every day, and in which she asked me to accompany her to visit friends and relatives of her own. I refused in my own blunt fashion.