A Fourth Form Friendship (16 page)

Venus in the Snow

There was generally sound sense in Mabel's arguments, though Aldred's impatience wanted at once to achieve great things. Skating, like everything else, has no royal road, and neither of the girls advanced much beyond the point of going alone. Aldred, rather to her chagrin, found she certainly could not compete with Ursula, and an aspiring dream of seeing herself queen of the rink vanished away. She was never without resources, however and as she was determined always to keep to the fore, she hit upon another means of making herself prominent. She remembered hearing that in Brussels, when snow falls, the most eminent sculptors of the city go to the Park and model snow statues, which are carefully guarded afterwards by the park keepers, and shown to the streams of visitors who flock to look at them. This was an idea worthy of being copied, and one of which she was sure nobody else would be likely to think. Abandoning her skates, therefore, one afternoon, she retired to the now deserted lawn, and set to work. The snow was not such an easy medium as clay, but it was in prime condition for her purpose, being soft enough to model, yet stiff enough to hold together. Aldred's scheme was decidedly ambitious, for she had decided to make a representation in snow of the Venus of Milo. She had chosen that for her subject because of its lack of arms and its flowing draperies, as she knew it would be quite impossible to reproduce a Flying Mercury or the Dying Gladiator. She had really a strong talent for sculpture, and contrived, with the aid of a framework of broomsticks, to give her statue a wonderfully good pose. She had brought out a photograph of the original, which she constantly consulted; and she worked away with great enjoyment, shaping the snow with deft hands, and using some flat pieces of wood and a palette knife from the studio as her modelling tools. She felt it was almost one of the most exciting things she had ever done in her life. The keen joy of creation, that true heritage of all who possess artistic ability thrilled her fingers, as she put dainty touches here and there, and watched the resemblance to the Venus evolve itself by slow degrees from her great mass of snow. She thought of Michelangelo, who saw the angel in a rough block of marble, only waiting to be released by his chisel, and felt as if she, too, were trying to free the goddess, and give her human form. For the time all thought of what the girls would say was forgotten, and she worked for the love of art alone, sighing with satisfaction as she successfully put in a delicate fold of dress, or a ripple of classic hair.

It was finished at last, even to the pedestal, and Aldred stepped back and looked at it with mixed feelings. She had done her very best; she dared not add another impress, from fear of spoiling it, yet she knew how far it fell short of her ideal.

"I wonder if Phidias used to be contented with what he'd done?" she thought. "I suppose he was the greatest sculptor that ever lived. I remember reading that Millais once went to an exhibition of his own pictures, and came away very dejected. Shall I ask them all to come and see it now? I want so much to show it, but somehow I hardly dare. I almost think I'll leave it for somebody to find out, and just go back to the rink and say nothing."

She had not counted, however, on Mabel, who, missing her friend for an unusual length of time, took off her skates and went to hunt for her, tracking her in the end by her footsteps in the snow. Mabel's amazement when she reached the lawn was only equalled by her admiration. She rushed off instantly to fetch all the girls to look, even venturing to knock at the study door and report her news at head-quarters.

Aldred's snow statue made quite a sensation at the Grange. Miss Drummond thought so highly of it that she had it photographed, and invited many of her friends from Chetbourne to come and see it. It was such a daring and original project for a girl of only fifteen to have carried out entirely alone that she felt it reflected credit on the school to possess so clever a pupil. Aldred was praised to her heart's content, and received so much attention from teachers and visitors that she could certainly consider herself, for the time being, the most important person at Birkwood. She was petted by the prefects, invited to skate by members of the Sixth Form who had ignored her existence before, and asked so often for her autograph that she grew almost tired of signing her name.

"There's to be a picture of your statue in the School Magazine," said Mabel rapturously. "That's a tremendous compliment, because Miss Drummond generally says it's too expensive to have illustrations. I'm going to ask her to have your photograph put in as well--just a tiny head, from that splendid snapshot which Dora took when you came last September. It would fit into a corner of the same page, and show the 'portrait of the artist'. I'll make up the extra money myself, if it will cost more to print. I shall bespeak six copies: I want to send one to Cousin Marion--she's gone to live in Germany for a year; she'll be so interested, because, you know, it was she who was staying at Seaforth last year, and who first told me anything about you."

Aldred's face fell. In a moment all the zest seemed to have faded out of her pleasure. This was indeed a grave danger. "Cousin Marion" had seen her namesake at Seaforth, and would probably recognize that the two faces were not the same; even a badly printed portrait might not conceal the lack of likeness. Would Mabel ever forget that wretched episode? Why must it always be raked up in this tiresome way? Whenever she thought it was safely consigned to oblivion, it appeared to rise again like a ghost, and threaten the destruction of her position. True, she had done much since she came to Birkwood to strengthen her hold on Mabel's affection, but she knew that her one deed of supposed heroism was the basis of their friendship, and the groundwork of her general popularity; and she trembled to think what the effect might be if this foundation stone were removed.

"I don't want my photograph blazoned abroad," she said, almost crying. "I'd rather Miss Drummond didn't put either me or the statue in the Magazine. Promise me, Mabel, that you won't send a copy to anybody, if she does."

"But why shouldn't I?" said Mabel, much surprised.

"Because I don't wish it. The statue was a stupid thing, after all; far too much fuss has been made of it. I'm sorry I didn't knock it down as soon as it was finished!"

"Aldred! how can you say so?"

"Well, I'm tired of hearing about it, anyway," returned Aldred, "and I hope you won't mention it to your cousin; it makes me feel silly to have such a tremendous 'cock-a-doodling' over all my stupid little performances, which really aren't worth it."

"Well, I won't, if you so particularly ask me not to," said Mabel, in a disappointed voice. "But you can't always hide everything; it's not fair to the world if all the brave and clever things that are done must be suppressed--they're such a help and encouragement to other people. I, for instance, am ever so much better for having known you; you've been quite an inspiration in my life. My mother had a friend like that (it was Lady Betty Blakeney, who is now so famous) who had a tremendous influence over her, and first made her want to help poor people, and take up the work she does now; and she always hoped I should meet somebody who would be as much to me as her friend was to her. But I never did until you came to Birkwood."

It seemed useless to protest; the more Aldred tried to shuffle out of her rôle of heroine the more Mabel admired her modesty and her other imagined excellencies. Mabel was a girl who loved to idolize celebrities; it was partly a necessity of her nature, and partly a habit that had been cultivated at home by her mother, who had a kindred weakness. Before the two girls knew each other, Mabel had been obliged to confine her worship to book favourites; then, having met, as she thought, the realization of her ideal, she could not resist the temptation to endow her with the combined virtues of Portia, Rebecca, Ellen Douglas, Grace Darling, Flora Macdonald, and the "Nut-brown Maid", without stopping to put the various qualities to the test, and make sure that they actually existed. It is always better to err on the right side, and think too highly than too ill of people, but Mabel's mistake was to take Aldred so utterly on trust, and to blind herself wilfully to the many small indications of character that might easily have shown her that her idol was very far from perfection.

Aldred could not feel easy until she had made sure that the snapshot portrait was not to be included in the next number of the Magazine. She was afraid Mabel might break her promise, and send a copy surreptitiously to her cousin, and then the mischief would be done. She did not dare to mention the matter at head-quarters; it would appear conceited on her part to suggest that the idea had been broached, and she would feel very humiliated if Miss Drummond were to say: "Oh, no, my dear! I never dreamt of putting it in!"

A plan occurred to her, however, by which she could defeat her friend's too enthusiastic project. She borrowed the negative from Dora on the pretence of wanting to look at it, and in handing it back managed to drop it and step on it, breaking it beyond all chance of repair. She apologized profusely for the accident.

"It was most clumsy of me!" she declared. "Could we possibly patch it up again, do you think?"

"No, we couldn't!" said the aggrieved Dora. "It would show a mark right across the face, however carefully we joined it. I've tried piecing negatives together before, and they're not worth the trouble of printing."

"Well, it was only a picture of me, not the lovely one you took of Miss Drummond and Mademoiselle."

"No; I'm glad it was not that. But I promised this to Mabel; she asked me last night if I could find it, and I've had such a hunt through all my negatives! She'll be quite cross that it's broken."

"You must put the blame on me, then, for it was my fault."

Secretly Aldred was exultant.

"I know Dora only took one print from it," she said to herself, "and that was spoilt in the fixing bath. It's impossible to take snapshots in midwinter, so I believe I'm safe for the present. I shall discourage Mabel strongly from buying a camera. I hope she won't get one given to her on her birthday! I'm glad her Cousin Marion has gone to Germany, so that she won't meet Mabel for a year, at any rate. So far as I can tell, she is the only person who has seen that Lawrence girl and knows what she is like."

The ice lasted for a whole fortnight, a totally unprecedented record in the annals of Birkwood, which, on account of its position near the sea, did not often come in for so severe an experience of frost. The rink proved the greatest success; the ice was apt to get cut up and rough by the afternoon, but when everyone had left, the gardener would turn the hose over it, so that by next morning there was once more a splendid, smooth surface.

January 29th happened to be Miss Drummond's birthday. The girls were accustomed to prepare some little surprise for her on such occasions, and generally acted a play in honour of the event; and the evening was always considered a holiday. This time, however, Miss Drummond announced that, instead of being entertained by her pupils, she wished to provide a treat for the whole school.

"It is full moon," she said, "and we shall have a carnival on the ice. The rink will be illuminated, and I expect we shall all find it quite a novel experience to skate by torchlight. Mind you don't catch colds beforehand! Anyone who is heard sneezing will have to stay indoors."

"It is a lovely idea!" said Phoebe, as the Fourth Form discussed the project afterwards. "We shall have the most glorious fun! I'll ask Miss Drummond if we may hang up the Chinese lanterns round the rink; it would be quite safe to light them out-of-doors, and they'd look so nice!"

"I hope I shan't have toothache again," said Dora. "Do you think Miss Drummond would let me go out if I muffled my head in a big shawl?"

"No, I'm sure she won't, nor Lorna either, if she persists in that noisy coughing. If you can't smother it, Lorna, you and Dora will have to keep each other company in the classroom, and miss all the fun."

"Oh, that would be too bad! I'll manage somehow to get well enough, if I swallow every nostrum under the sun. Will you lend me your carbolic smoke ball? and I'll try it to-night."

In spite of many remedies suggested by sympathetic friends, Lorna was, however, obliged to forego the festivities. Miss Drummond was inexorable where health was concerned, and would not allow colds to be trifled with.

"Perhaps if I'd tried all the different recipes I might have cured it," said Lorna dolefully. "I've been recommended hot buttermilk and treacle, and honey with lemon, and black-currant tea, and elder syrup, and spirits of nitre, and ammoniated quinine, and to tie a wet handkerchief and a stocking round my throat, and sit with my feet in mustard and water!"

"I think the cures sound worse than the cold," said Dora, who was nursing a swollen face. "I've resigned myself to staying indoors. We shan't be the only ones, for there are at least eight others on the sick list. I don't much care; I'd rather sit near the fire and keep warm than skate with a raging toothache. No, I'm afraid I can't eat any chocolates, though it's kind of Miss Drummond to have sent us a box full."

"If you look out at the landing window, you can just catch a peep of what is going on," said Mabel. "We'll tell you all about it afterwards. And if you're wise you'll let Miss Bardsley take you to the dentist to-morrow, and have that tooth out."

At half-past seven those members of the school who could show a clean bill of health wrapped themselves up warmly, and sallied forth to the carnival. The garden was really a beautiful sight. The full moon shone down upon the snow, glinting on the frosty branches of the trees, and showing cold and pale in contrast to the line of flaming torches that encircled the rink. All Phoebe's Chinese lanterns had been put up, and a number of others, which belonged to the Fifth and Sixth Forms; so that the scene resembled Aladdin's palace, with its rows of red, blue, yellow, and green lamps. It seemed very romantic to skate amid such surroundings, and the girls felt as if they were stepping into a picture or a scene from a play, as they took their first strokes, over the ice. Two friends of Miss Drummond had brought a mandoline and a guitar, and played lively selections, sometimes giving a song with a chorus, in which all could join, when the whole school swung round to the tune of "Oh! dem golden slippers" or "The old folks at home". The oil stove from the cottage had been requisitioned, and stood in a snug corner, keeping warm a large can of beef-tea, from which steaming cupfuls could be ladled from time to time by anyone who wanted refreshment; and a tray full of hot turnovers, which one of the maids carried from the house, was highly appreciated.