Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. A Sweet Girl Graduate by L. T. Meade (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖
- Author: L. T. Meade
Book online «A Sweet Girl Graduate by L. T. Meade (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖». Author L. T. Meade
“There are two selfs in me,” replied Maggie. “And if one even approaches the faintest semblance of angel-hood, the other is black as pitch. There, it only wastes time to talk the thing over. I’m in for the sort of scrape I hate most. See, Nancy, I bought this at the auction.”
She opened her wardrobe, and taking out Polly Singleton’s magnificent eighty-guinea sealskin jacket, slipped it on.
“Don’t I look superb?” said Maggie. She shut the wardrobe-door and surveyed herself in its long glass. Brown was Maggie Oliphant’s color. It harmonized with the soft tints of her delicately rounded face, with the rich color in her hair, with the light in her eyes. It added to all these charms, softening them, giving to them a more perfect luster.
“Oh, Maggie!” said Nancy, clasping her hands, “you ought always to be dressed as you are now.”
Maggie dropped her arms suddenly to her sides. The jacket, a little too large for her, slid off her shoulders and lay in a heap on the floor.
“What?” she said suddenly. “Am I never to show my true and real self? Am I always to be disguised in sham beauty and sham goodness? Oh, Nancy, Nancy! if there is a creature I hate— I hate— her name is Maggie Oliphant!”
Nancy picked up the sealskin jacket and put it back into the wardrobe.
“I am sorry you went to the auction, Maggie,” she repeated, “and I’m sorry still to find you bought poor Polly Singleton’s sealskin. Well, it’s done now, and we have to consider how to get you out of this scrape.
There’s no time for you to indulge in that morbid talk of yours to-day, Maggie, darling. Let us consider what’s best to be done.”
“Nothing,” retorted Maggie. “I shall simply go to Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston and tell them the truth. There’s nothing else to be done. No hope whatever of getting out of the affair. I went to Polly Singleton’s auction because Rosalind Merton raised the demon in me. I tried to become the possessor of the sealskin jacket because her heart was set on it. I won an eighty-guinea jacket for ten guineas. You see how ignoble my motives were, also how unworthy the results. I did worse even than that— for I will out with the truth to you, Nancy— I revenged myself still further upon that spiteful little gnat, Rosalind, and raised the price of her coveted coral to such an extent that I know by her face she is pounds in debt for it. Now, my dear, what have you to say to me? Nothing good, I know that. Let me read Aristotle for the next hour just to calm my mind.”
Maggie turned away, seated herself by her writing bureau and tried to lose both the past and the present in her beloved Greek.
“She will do it, too,” whispered Nancy as she left the room. “No one ever was made quite like Maggie. She can feel tortures and yet the next moment she can be in ecstasy. She is so tantalizing that at times you are almost brought to believe her own stories about herself. You are almost sure that she has got the black self as well as the white self. But through it all, yes, through it all, you love her. Dear Maggie! Whatever happens, I must always— always love her.”
Nancy was walking slowly down the corridor when a room-door was gently opened and the sweet, childish, innocent face of Rosalind peeped out.
“Nancy, is that you? Do, for Heaven’s sake, come in and speak to me for a moment.”
“What about, Rosalind? I have only a minute or two to spare. My German lecture is to begin immediately.”
“Oh, what does that signify? You don’t know the awful trouble we’ve got into.”
“You mean about the auction?”
“Yes— yes; so you have heard?”
“Of course I’ve heard. If that is all, Rosalind, I cannot wait to discuss the matter now. I am very sorry for you, of course, but as I said to Maggie, why did you do it?”
“Oh, you’ve been talking to Miss Oliphant? Thank goodness she’ll have to answer for her sins as well as the rest of us.”
“Maggie is my friend, so you need not abuse her, Rosalind.”
“Lucky for her that she has got one true friend!” retorted Rosalind.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what I say. Maggie is making such a fool of herself that we are all laughing at her behind her back.”
“Indeed? I fail to understand you.”
“You are being made a fool of, too, Nancy. Oh, I did think you’d have had more sense.”
“How? Speak. Say at once what you want to say, Rosalind, and stop talking riddles, for I must fly to my work.”
“Fly then,” retorted Rosalind, “only think twice before you give your confidence to a certain person. A person who makes a fine parade of poverty and so-called honesty of purpose, but who can, and who does, betray her kindest and best friend behind her back. It is my private belief we have to thank this virtuous being for getting us into the pleasant scrape we are in. I am convinced she has tried to curry favor by telling Miss Heath all about poor Polly’s auction.”
“You mean Priscilla Peel?” said Nancy in a firm voice. She forgot her German lecture now. “You have no right to say words of that kind. You have taken a dislike to Prissie, no one knows why. She is not as interesting nor as beautiful as Maggie, but she is good, and you should respect her.”
Rosalind laughed bitterly.
“Good? Is she? Ask Mr. Hammond. You say she is not beautiful nor interesting. Perhaps he finds her both. Ask him.”
“Rosalind, I shall tell Maggie what you say. This is not the first time you have hinted unkind things about Priscilla. It is better to sift a matter of this kind to the bottom than to hint it all over the college as you are doing. Maggie shall take it in hand.”
“Let her! I shall only be too delighted! What a jolly time the saintly Priscilla will have.”
“I can’t stay any longer, Rosalind.”
“But, Nancy, just one moment. I want to put accounts right with Polly before to-night. Mother sent me ten pounds to buy something at the auction. The coral cost fourteen guineas. I have written to mother for the balance, and it may come by any post. Do lend it to me until it comes! Do, kind Nancy!”
“I have not got so much in the world, I have not really, Rosalind. Good-by; my lecture will have begun.”
Nancy ran out of the room and Miss Merton turned to survey ruefully her empty purse and to read again a letter which had already arrived from her mother:
MY DEAR ROSALIND:
I have not the additional money to spare you, my poor child. The ten pounds which I weakly yielded at your first earnest request was, in reality, taken from the money which is to buy your sisters their winter dresses. I dare not encroach any further on it, or your father would certainly ask me why the girls were dressed so shabbily. Fourteen guineas for coral! You know, my dear child, we cannot afford this extravagance. My advice is to return it to your friend and to ask her to let you have the ten guineas back. You might return it to me in a postal order, for I want it badly. It was one thing to struggle to let you have it in the hopes that you would secure a really valuable garment like a sealskin jacket and another to give it to you for some rather useless ornaments.
Your affectionate mother,
“ALICE MERTON.”
IN MISS ECCLESTON’S SITTING-ROOM
Miss Eccleston was a dark, heavy-looking person; she was not as attractive either in appearance or manner as Miss Heath. She was estimable, and the college authorities thought most highly of her, but her character possessed more hardness than softness, and she was not as popular with the girls and young lecturers who lived in Katharine Hall as was Miss Heath with her girls.
When Maggie entered Miss Eccleston’s sitting-room that evening she found the room about half-full of eager, excited-looking girls. Miss Eccleston was standing up and speaking; Miss Heath was leaning against the wall; a velvet curtain made a background which brought out her massive and grand figure in full relief.
Miss Eccleston looked excited and angry; Miss Heath’s expression was a little perplexed, and a kind of sorrowful mirth brought smiles to her lips now and then, which she was most careful to suppress instantly.
As Maggie made her way to the front of the room she recognized several of the girls. Rosalind Merton, Annie Day, Lucy Marsh were all present. She saw them, although they were standing hidden behind many other girls. Prissie, too, was there— she had squeezed herself into a corner. She looked awkward, plain and wretched. She was clasping and unclasping her hands and trying to subdue the nervous tremors which she could not conceal.
Maggie, as she walked across the room, singled Prissie out. She gave her a swift glance, a brilliant and affectionate smile and then stood in such a position that neither Miss Eccleston nor Miss Heath could catch a glimpse of her.
Miss Eccleston, who had been speaking when Maggie entered the room, was now silent. She had a note-book in her hand and was rapidly writing something in it with a pencil. Some one gave Maggie a rather severe prod on her elbow. Polly Singleton, tall, flushed and heavy, stood close to her side.
“You’ll stand up for me, won’t you, Miss Oliphant?” whispered Polly.
Maggie raised her eyes, looked at the girl, who was even taller than herself, and began to reply in her usual voice.
“Silence,” said Miss Eccleston. She put down her note-book. “I wish for no conversation between you at the present moment, young ladies. Good evening, Miss Oliphant; I am pleased to see you here. I shall have a few questions to ask you in a minute. Now, Miss Singleton, if you please, we will resume our conversation. You have confessed to the fact of the auction. I wish now to ascertain what your motive was.”
Poor Polly stammered and reddened, twisted her hands as badly as Prissie herself could have done and looked to right and left of her in the most bewildered and unhappy manner.
“Don’t you hear me, Miss Singleton? I wish to know what your motive was in having an auction in Katharine Hall,” repeated Miss Eccleston.
“Tell her the truth,” whispered Maggie.
Polly, who was in a condition to catch even at a straw for support, said falteringly:
“I had the auction in my room because of dad.”
Miss Eccleston raised her brows. The amused smile of sorrow round Miss Heath’s mouth became more marked. She came forward a few steps and stood near Miss Eccleston.
“You must explain yourself, Miss Singleton,” repeated the latter lady.
“Do tell everything,” said Maggie again.
“Dad is about the only person I hate vexing,” began Polly once more. “He is awfully rich, but he hates me to get into debt, and— and— there was no other way to raise money. I couldn’t tell dad— I— couldn’t keep out of debt, so I had to sell my things.”
“You have made a very lame excuse, Miss Singleton,” said Miss Eccleston after a pause. “You did something which was extremely irregular and improper. Your reason for doing it was even worse than the thing itself. You were in debt. The students of St. Benet’s are not expected to be in debt.”
“But there’s no rule against it,” suddenly interrupted Maggie.
“Hush! your turn to speak will come presently. You know, Miss Singleton— all the right-minded girls in this college know— that we deal in principles, not rules. Now, please go on with your story.”
Polly’s broken and confused narrative continued for the next five minutes. There were some titters from the girls behind her— even Miss Heath smiled faintly. Miss Eccleston alone remained grave and displeased.
“That will do,” she said at last. “You are a silly and rash girl, and your only possible defense is your desire to keep the knowledge of your extravagance from your father. Your love for him, however, has never taught you true nobility. Had you that even in the most shadowy degree, you would abstain from the things which he detests. He gives you an ample allowance. Were you a schoolgirl and I your mistress, I should punish you severely for your conduct.”
Miss Eccleston paused. Polly put her handkerchief up to her eyes and began to sob loudly.
“Miss Oliphant,” said Miss Eccleston, “will you please account for the fact that you, who are looked up to in this college, you
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