The Girls at Mount Morris, Amanda Minnie Douglas [motivational novels for students .TXT] 📗

I couldn't have done it."

Was it education that gave one the power, the sense of what was appropriate, or some underlying fact that she dared not face? What if it had been a great mistake in that far back time? Could it ever be remedied?

"Oh, mother, I thought last night that I shouldn't want to live if I could never reach any of my aims. When I hear delicious music I feel it in my very finger ends. When I read about pictures and statuary and magnificent churches I can almost see them, and a rift in the sky, an autumnal branch of red brown leaves, nooks that I have seen now and then, looks that are grand and high and beautiful stir my very soul. Where did I get this from? Was my father--"

She looked really beautiful standing there, her eyes full of inspiration, her cheeks aglow, her scarlet lips quivering. Mrs. Boyd trembled with a mysterious chill, and a shiver went over her.

"Oh, no, no! he was a plain man, a good, honest man"--her voice failed.

"And if he had lived we should have been very happy, I know; and I did like the boarding house better. I wish we could have kept it, but to sit here day after day and not see any way out of the narrow distasteful life, feeling as if you could fly--am I wicked? Poor little mother do I frighten you? Oh, don't cry, I am going to be a good daughter and not wish for impossible things if this comes true."

She clasped her mother's hands that were seldom idle so long. How thin they were with dullish, prominent veins. The mother looked past her child rather than at her, but she could feel the glowing, spirited force like a ghost out of the past that shook its upbraiding finger at her. She leaned her face on Lilian's breast.

"Poor mother, dear mother," in a sweet comforting tone. "I'm afraid I haven't always been a loving daughter, but whatever comes we will share it together. In a few years I will be working for you, that is the splendid side to this offer."

"But--if you shouldn't be--some girls, young ladies think they must draw a line--"

"Oh, I shall not mind that if I suit Mrs. Barrington. I shall go to work and to study, and when I reach some high place in teaching, I shall smile over those petty things. A boy gets praised when he works for his education, why shouldn't a girl?"

Then she brought out her paper and wrote her letter. She wished her stationery had been finer, but she would not spend the money to gratify pride. Then she went and posted it and bought some little luxuries for dinner. After they had partaken of it she made her mother lie down and take a good rest while she went over some of her school books and worked out several problems.

Yet the waiting was very wearing. Sally came after having had a splendid time at the Rest House and said she, Lilian, could come in two weeks. She wrote a letter to her mother's friend Mrs. Searing who was most happy that they had accepted the position, and enclosed a ten-dollar note to buy some of the little things young girls long for.

They took out last winter's clothing, but alas, it was outgrown and well worn.

"When we hear you must have a new outfit," the mother commented.

"But it seems dreadful to break into your last resource," said the girl regretfully.

"But I shall be able to replace it from my salary, for as you said we shall have no expense in the future for living. Oh, what a blessed relief! Mrs. Searing has been our good providence."

"And you are quite happy about it?"

"Yes, oh yes!"

The mother watched her elastic step, her proud carriage, the attractive face that had so much vigor and purpose. Oh, she was not of her kind. At times the thought was terrifying.

Then the longed for letter came. It began:

"My dear Miss Boyd. I was much pleased with your letter and the consideration evinced for your mother. I hope the change will benefit her. Mount Morris is considered a very healthy place and it is certainly beautiful. I hope you will both be very happy here, and you seem not only an ambitious girl but quite willing to work for the things you desire." Then follows a description of the school and the duties, and what would be expected of the mother, the routes of travel and several time tables enclosed. Mrs. Barrington would like them to come as soon after the 20th of August as they could.

Lilian could not conceal her joy. They shopped a little, finding some bargains from early spring left-overs. They packed up a few things and disposed of the rest. Lilian's few friends were surprised. Sally hoped she would not be disappointed.

"Mount Morris has such a pretty sound," exclaimed Lilian, "and I think Mrs. Barrington is a tall and stately woman with the grand beauty you sometimes see in a picture. I want her complexion to be lovely and her hair snowy white, and her voice like the music that makes you feel sorry when it stops. I want to like her very much, and make myself useful to her."

"I am quite sure she will like you," returned the mother.

Lilian felt as if she could dance and sing. Was there such a thing as being too glad and happy? To go out of this poor old life with its pinches, and the sordid economies to a lovely home! She read Mrs. Searing's letter over and over again. These were the things that appealed to her, that she enjoyed in every fibre of her being. She glanced at her mother. Why the face was almost stolid! Oh, that was wicked! She had been so good and kind. Was it not the hard grind of poverty and hopeless work, never making any advance, that quenched the vitality of soul and brain? She must make her mark before hope dropped out of the years. She had watched her teachers in a curious manner, though she was too young to understand analysis of character. Some were favorites, some had favorites, girls who were of the noted families or had prosperity back of them. There were others, one she had liked very much who seemed to study with you, to help you to understand. Her classes always had many of the finest pupils. That was the kind of teacher she meant to be.

Of course there had been slights, sometimes sneers. These lilies of the field in their fine array longed to crowd their mates out in the arid, dusty highway. She stood her ground and she was a fine scholar. She was helpful, too; she had no sneers or cruel laughs over the blunders of others.

A few of her mates were truly sorry to part with her and surprised to find she was going to a high-up Seminary to be trained for a teacher. The teacher she liked so much was away on her vacation.

So they left the old noisy, dirty factory city. It was Lilian's first journey in the great world. And oh how large and beautiful it was! They passed thriving towns, beautiful villages, great fields of waving corn, fruit orchards, then towns again, rivers, lakes, high hills cleft by rocky passes that sparkled in places as if set by gems. Then stretches so serene so instinct with fairy beauty she drew long breaths and dreamed of delightful futures, and what is a girl of sixteen filled with a love of beauty and ambition worth if she cannot dream some grand ventures.

Mrs. Boyd was not interested in the scenery. She gave a quiet assent to the girl's enthusiasms and presently Lilian ceased to appeal. It was so when she had read stirring prose or exquisite poetry aloud.

Mrs. Boyd was going over her past life. It had been much in her mind the last year. A commonplace factory girl earning her living, an orphan at that. Her dream was a lover, presently, marriage, a little home, and keeping it tidy, and babies of her very own. The lover came, a nice steady machinist with a little education, saving up money, marriage and the home of a few rooms, buying this and that of the simplest kind, and then the baby, a nice, plump, blue-eyed boy who grew apace and was the delight of both. What more could she ask for? That was certainly content.

He took out a small life insurance, though it almost broke her heart to think of his dying. And she never dreamed of the baby. He was so well and strong and joyous. Yet a few days' illness swept him out of the world, and almost broke their hearts. Then a little girl came. She liked girls the best, they were more to the mother. She could make their clothes, they could go out together. Then lovers would come and marriage, and all the everyday interest of new lives.

One sad day James Boyd was brought home dead. Something had gone wrong with the machinery and before it could be stopped his life had been beaten out. Neighbors were kind to her, the employer took charge of the funeral, but there were other sorrows and losses in the world.

She had one brother of whom she had seen very little, as he had gone West when a mere boy. He had a big farm and five children and he wrote for her to come out, as his wife had recently died. The steady home looked so inviting. Yes, she would go.

The life insurance had been well invested by a friend of her husbands'.

"Don't disturb it," he counseled. "You may not like it there and want to come back, and your brother may marry again. There's enough to give you a nice start in something."

If she had never gone! How many times she had wondered! For midway in the journey there was a horrible accident in a small town where two roads crossed. The child flew out of her arms and she lay unconscious. There was no hospital. Kindly neighbors took in the wounded and the dead.

When she came to herself one morning the child was fretting and she nursed it. She could not remember distinctly, but they were both alive and she gave thanks as she hugged the child to her heart.

"Will you have some breakfast? You had a good natural sleep last night, and the baby is all right. The other poor baby was killed and its mother is dying, maybe dead now. There was so much confusion. The baggage car was wrecked and burned, the trunks lost, and it seems so hard to get on track of relatives. Some cannot be identified."

The listener shuddered. Then the breakfast came and she ate it with an eager appetite.

"You might try getting up by and by. The railroad company are doing all they can and sending passengers to their destination."

"When was it?" in a tremulous tone.

"Two days ago; well, it will be three tonight. It was hardly midnight when it happened. I never was in an accident before. It was awful."

Emma Boyd sat up in the bed and took the child in her arms, studying it earnestly. Oh, how sweet and rosy it was with its dimpled mouth and its fringe of soft hair. Then she laid it down and crept out of bed, feeling