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
Prissie tumbled her book in one direction and Katie in the other. In a moment she was kneeling by Miss Peel’s side.
“What is it, Aunt Raby?” she asked tenderly. “Are you ill?”
The tired woman opened her eyes slowly.
“I think I fainted, dear love,” she said. “Perhaps it was the heat of the sun.”
Priscilla managed to get her back into the house. She grew better presently and seemed something like herself, but that evening the aunt and niece had a long talk, and the next day Prissie went up to see Mr. Hayes.
“I am interested,” he said when he saw her enter the room, “to see how you have construed that passage in Cicero, Priscilla. You know I warned you of its difficulty.”
“Oh, please, sir, don’t,” said Prissie, holding up her hand with an impatient movement, which she now and then found herself indulging in. “I don’t care if Cicero is at the bottom of the sea. I don’t want to speak about him or think about him. His day is over, mine is— oh, sir, I beg your pardon.”
“Granted, my dear child. Sit down, Prissie. I will forgive your profane words about Cicero, for I see you are excited. What is the matter?”
“I want you to help me, Mr. Hayes. Will you help me? You have always been my dear friend, my good friend.”
“Of course I will help you. What is wrong? Speak to me fully.”
“Aunt Raby fainted in the hayfield yesterday.”
“Indeed? It was a warm day; I am truly concerned. Would she like to see me? Is she better to-day?”
“She is quite well to-day— quite well for the time.”
“My dear Priscilla, what a tragic face! Your Aunt Raby is not the first woman who has fainted and got out of her faint again and been none the worse.”
“That is just the point, Mr. Hayes. Aunt Raby has got out of her faint, but she is the worse.”
Mr. Hayes looked hard into his pupil’s face. There was no beauty in it. The mouth was wide, the complexion dull, the features irregular. Even her eyes— and perhaps they were Prissie’s best point— were neither large nor dark; but an expression now filled those eyes and lingered round that mouth which made the old rector feel solemn.
He took one of the girl’s thin unformed hands between his own.
“My dear child,” he said, “something weighs on your mind. Tell your old friend— your almost father— all that is in your heart.”
Thus begged to make a confidence, Priscilla did tell a commonplace, and yet tragic, story. Aunt Raby was affected with an incurable illness. It would not kill her soon; she might live for years, but every year she would grow a little weaker and a little less capable of toil. As long as she lived the little farm belonged to her, but whenever she died it would pass to a distant cousin. Whenever Aunt Raby died, Priscilla and her three sisters would be penniless.
“So I have come to you,” continued Prissie, “to say that I must take steps at once to enable me to earn money. I must support Hattie and Rose and Katie whenever Aunt Raby goes. I must earn money as soon as it is possible for a girl to do so, and I must stop dreaming and thinking of nothing but books, for perhaps books and I will have little to say to each other in future.”
“That would be sad,” replied Mr. Hayes, “for that would be taking a directly opposite direction to the path which Providence clearly intends you to walk in.”
Priscilla raised her eyes and looked earnestly at the old rector. Then, clasping her hands tightly together, she said with suppressed passion:
“Why do you encourage me to be selfish, Mr. Hayes?”
“I will not,” he replied, answering her look; “I will listen patiently to all you have to say. How do you propose to earn bread for yourself and your sisters?”
“I thought of dressmaking.”
“Um! Did you— make— the gown you have on?”
“Yes,” replied Priscilla, looking down at her ungainly homespun garment.
The rector rose to his feet and smiled in the most sweet and benevolent way.
“I am no judge of such matters,” he said, “and I may be wrong. But my impression is that the style and cut of that dress would scarcely have a large demand in fashionable quarters.”
“Oh, sir!” Prissie blushed all over. “You know I said I should have to learn.”
“My dear child,” said Mr. Hayes firmly, “when it becomes a question of a woman earning her bread, let her turn to that path where promise lies. There is no promise in the fit of that gown, Prissie. But here— here there is much.”
He touched her big forehead lightly with his hand.
“You must not give up your books, my dear,” he said, “for, independently of the pleasure they afford, they will also give you bread and butter. Go home now and let me think over matters. Come again to-morrow. I may have important things to say to you.”
From this conversation came the results which, shortly after the completion of her eighteenth year, made Priscilla an inmate of St. Benet’s far-famed college for women. Mr. Hayes left no stone unturned to effect his object. He thought Priscilla could do brilliantly as a teacher, and he resolved that for this purpose she should have the advantages which a collegiate life alone could offer to her. He himself prepared her for her entrance examination, and he and Aunt Raby between them managed the necessary funds to give the girl a three-years’ life as a student in these halls of learning.
Prissie knew very little about the money part of the scheme. She only guessed what had become of Aunt Raby’s watch and chain; and a spasm crossed her face when one day she happened to see that Aunt Raby’s poor little jewel case was empty. The jewels and the watch could certainly not fetch much, but they provided Prissie with a modest little outfit, and Mr. Hayes had got a grant from a loan society, which further lightened expenses for all parties.
Priscilla bade her sisters, her aunt and the old rector good-by and started on her new life with courage.
COLLEGE LIFE
The routine of life at St. Benet’s was something as follows:
The dressing-bell was rung at seven, and all the students were expected to meet in the chapel for prayers at eight. Nothing was said if they did not appear; no reproofs were uttered and no inquiries made; but the good-fellowship between the students and the dons was so apparent in the three halls that known wishes were always regarded, and, as a rule, there were few absentees.
The girls went to chapel in their white-straw sailor-hats, simply trimmed with a broad band of ribbon of the college colors, green with a narrow stripe of gold. Breakfast immediately followed chapel; tea and coffee and different cold meats were placed on the side-tables, and the girls helped themselves to what they pleased.
The great event at breakfast was the post. Each student, when she entered the breakfast-hall, would make an eager rush to the side-table where the letters were neatly placed. During breakfast these were read and chatted over. The whole meal was most informal and seldom lasted more than a quarter of an hour.
After breakfast the notice-board in the large entrance-hall was visited and eagerly scanned, for it contained a detailed account of the hours for the different lectures and the names of the lecturers who would instruct the students during the day. By the side of the large official notice-board hung another, which was read with quite as deep interest. This contained particulars of the meetings of the different clubs and societies for pleasure or profit got up by the girls themselves.
On the morning after her arrival Priscilla, with the other students, read the contents of these two boards, and then, in the company of a fresher nearly as shy as herself, she wandered about the lovely grounds which surrounded Heath Hall until nine o’clock, when lectures began.
Lectures continued without interruption until lunchtime, a meal which was taken very much when the girls pleased. The time allowed for this light midday refreshment was from half-past twelve to two. The-afternoons were mostly given up to games and gymnastics, although occasionally there were more lectures, and the more studious of the girls spent a considerable part of the time studying in their own rooms.
Tea was the convivial meal of the day. To this the girls invited outside friends and acquaintances, and, as a rule, they always took it in their own rooms.
Dinner was at half-past six, and from half-past seven to half-past nine was usually the time when the different clubs and societies met.
There was a regularity and yet a freedom about the life; invisible bounds were prescribed, beyond which no right-minded or conscientious girl cared to venture, but the rules were really very few. Students might visit their friends in Kingsdene and receive them at the college. They might entertain them at luncheon or dinner or at tea in their own rooms at a fixed charge, and provided the friends left at a certain hour, and the girls themselves asked for leave of absence when they wished to remain out, and mentioned the place to which they proposed to go, no questions were asked and no objections offered.
They were expected to return to the college not later than eleven at night, and one invitation to go out in the week was, as a rule, the most they ever accepted.
Into this life Priscilla came, fresh from the Devonshire farm and from all the pursuits and interests which had hitherto formed her world. She had made a very firm niche for herself in Aunt Raby’s old cottage, and the dislodgment therefrom caused her for the time such mental disquiet and so many nervous and queer sensations that her pain was often acute and her sense of awkwardness considerable.
Priscilla’s best in her early life always seemed but a poor affair, and she certainly neither looked nor was at her best at first here. After a few days, however, she fitted into her new grooves, took up the line of study which she intended to pursue and was quickly absorbed in all the fascinations which it offered to a nature like hers.
Her purse was restored to her on the morning after her arrival, and neither Maggie Oliphant nor Nancy Banister ever guessed that she had overheard some words of theirs on the night of her arrival, and that these had put bitterness into her heart and nearly destroyed her faith in her fellow-students. Both Maggie and Nance made several overtures of kindness to Prissie, but the cold manner which was more or less habitual to her never thawed, and, after a time, they left her alone. There is no saying what might have happened to Prissie had she never overheard this conversation. As it was, however, after the first shock it gave her courage.
She said to herself:
“I should think very little of myself if I did not despise a girl like Miss Oliphant. Is it likely I should care to imitate one whom I despise? There was a brief, dreadful hour when I absolutely pined to have pretty things in my room as she has in hers; now I can do without them. My room shall remain bare and unadorned. In this state it will at least look unique.”
It did. The other students who lived in the same corridor came to visit Priscilla in the free and easy manner which characterized them and made remarks the reverse of flattering. When was she going to put her pictures up? Miss Day would be delighted to help her whenever she chose to do it. When did she intend to go down to Kingsdene to order her easy-chairs and little Japanese tables, and rugs, and the other small but necessary articles which would be required to make her room habitable?
For several days Priscilla turned these inquiries aside. She blushed, stammered, looked awkward and spoke of something else. At last, however, she summoned up courage, and, once for all, delivered herself from her tormentors. She did that remarkably brave thing which sometimes very nervous people can brace themselves to do.
It was evening and Miss Day, Miss Marsh and Nancy Banister had all come in for a few minutes to see Priscilla on their way to their own rooms.
“Do come and cocoa with me to-night, Miss Peel,”
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