Chapter II: Perseverance

PERCY, or Perseverance, Denham was the orphan niece of Miss Zoe Devine, who lived at Bridgeport, or "The Bridge," as the place was familiarly called.

Percy's father had been an officer in the regular army. He was a man respected and honoured in the army and out of it, and was in a fair way of rising in his profession, when his career was cut short by an Apache bullet; and his young wife was left without any earthly consolations except her little girl, and the thought that at least her husband had been granted a swift and easy passage to heaven, instead of falling alive, like some of his less fortunate companions, into the hands of those amiable savages, whom, by the way, he had always befriended to the extent of his power.

Mrs. Denham was not very strong, and her life, like that of most officers' wives, had been a trying one. In fact, her husband's death-blow had been hers also; and she only lived long enough to write to her husband's half-sister,—the only near relative he had,—and beg her to take charge of his little girl. Miss Zoe Devine was, as she described herself, a stay-at-home body in general; but she was one of those people who can always do what seems necessary to be done. She received her sister-in-law's letter in the morning, and set out for the distant post, whence the letter was mailed, at six o'clock that evening. She arrived only in time to see her sister die; and in two or three weeks she was once more at home at "The Bridge" with little Percy, then eleven years old, but so small of her age, and so shy and retiring in her manners, that she might easily have passed for three years younger.

But if Percy was backward in her growth and manners, she was by no means so in her mind; and when she began to feel herself at home with Aunt Zoe, she showed such a capacity for and eagerness in learning, that Miss Devine at once decided to give her niece the best education possible. This was not done without some self-sacrifice on her part; for though "well off" as the phrase is, Miss Devine was by no means rich, and the income of Percy's own little property was not much more than enough to clothe her. Miss Devine did not altogether like the school at "The Bridge." It was too large, and was arranged and managed with so much "system," that there seemed very little chance for improvement. There was a boarding school at Round Springs, the next port on the lake, and to this school Miss Devine determined to send Percy.

When Percy found that she was to go away to boarding school, she was in despair. She had learned to love Aunt Zoe and to feel at home with her; but she was totally unused to the society of girls of her own age, and she dreaded them almost as much as the Indians who had been her daily terror, who even yet haunted her dreams. She knew that she should be perfectly miserable; and she was not at all consoled when her aunt told her that she should come home every Saturday and stay till the next Monday,—at least till the steamers were laid up for the winter.

"But shall I have to go alone?"

"To be sure, child. Why, one would think that you were talking of going to Australia! What do you think can happen to you, when you go on board the boat within sight of your own door, and have nothing to do but to sit still till you reach your stopping place? It will only be a pleasant sail, for the lake is hardly ever rough. I know Captain Seymour very well, and I will ask him to take care of you, and see that you get safely ashore. However, you need not come home on Saturdays, unless you like."

But Percy thought that staying at school week after week without coming home would be even worse than the weekly journey on the steamboat. She had sense enough to understand how greatly the arrangement would be to her advantage; and she had no objection to the lessons, for she was one of those rare children who love learning for its own sake; and, in the wandering life she had led, she had enjoyed very few advantages. But then those dreadful girls—those girls who had always been to school, and who would know so much more than she did—and the teachers would be shocked at her ignorance and stupidity! Then she would be obliged to have a room-mate, and Percy knew the said room-mate would be a cross, disagreeable girl, or a very orderly and particular lady, who would be shocked at her carelessness; or, worse still, one of those wicked, worldly girls she had read about in books, who would hinder her from reading her Bible, and laugh when she said her prayers, and who would want her to do all sorts of bad things.

Percy was a good little Christian child, and she felt instinctively that it would be very ungracious for her to object to a scheme which was so much for her own advantage, and was at the same time so generous on Aunt Zoe's part; so she never said a word about all these bugbears which, to her fancy, were lying in wait for her at Hansen school. But it was with a down-sinking heart and a decidedly long face that she accompanied her aunt on board the steamer on that first eventful Monday morning.

But in one thing Percy was very unlike many weak-spirited and timid people: her fears and forebodings were no affectation. They were very real, and they made her really and truly unhappy; so that she was very glad to get rid of them when she could. The first thing that brought her a drop of comfort was the steamer. It was such pretty little boat, so clean and fresh and so tastefully furnished, and it rode so lightly and easily in the water; and Captain Seymour seemed such a kind old gentleman; and the banks of the lake were so pretty; and it was so interesting to watch the gulls as they followed the boat or sat twittering to each other on the water, that Percy began to brighten up and think that the weekly sail would be very pleasant, and that she should not be so much afraid after all. As they came near the landing, Percy's great eyes were wide open to see all that could be seen, and she presently exclaimed:

"Oh, Aunt Zoe, just see those young ladies rowing! Don't they look pretty? See, there is another boat!"

"Those are the school boats," answered Aunt Zoe. "The girls go out rowing a great deal in pleasant weather. See, they are managing to get into the wake of the boat, so as to rock on the swells."

There was a wagon to carry up the trunks landed from the boat, and Aunt Zoe and Percy walked up to the school.

"It doesn't look a bit as I expected," said Percy, surveying the building.

"All the boarding school buildings I ever saw before looked like barracks or factories. I think this house seems more like a home."

Nevertheless, Percy shrunk very close to her aunt's side as they entered the house. School was out for the afternoon, and there was a great buzz of young voices. Percy could see through an open door into the library, where two or three young ladies had their heads together over a volume of prints, and another was reading by herself in a book which looked as if it had been a good deal used, but was not a school book, nor a history. Percy loved books dearly, and she had been kept on a pretty short allowance of them. She thought the young ladies looked pleasant and not at all stuck-up or supercilious, and she wondered whether either of them would turn out to be the room-mate she had so much dreaded.

"Percy has always been used to sleeping alone," remarked Miss Devine to Mrs. Richardson, the lady Principal. "I don't quite know how she will get on with a room-mate."

"I think we can manage that matter nicely," replied Mrs. Richardson, and then she looked into the library, and called:

"Blandina, my dear, will you come here?"

The young lady, who was reading, closed her book, and came forward neither shyly nor boldly, but with a modest and self-possessed air.

"This is Miss Blandina St. Clair," said Mrs. Richardson. "Blandina, the little room which opens out of yours is unoccupied, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Miss St. Clair: "Henrietta Hardy had it; but she is not coming back."

"Then I think I shall ask you to take in this little girl—Miss Percy Denham. Suppose you carry her off, and show her the room and the house, while I talk with her aunt a while."

Percy looked rather miserable at being separated from her aunt; but she could not be ungracious when every one was so kind, and she rose to follow Miss St. Clair with more alacrity than her aunt expected.

"Percy is very bashful," Miss Devine remarked, when the girls had left the room; "but it is real shyness, and not affectation. She has never been to school, but has lived with her father and mother in a little world of her own, and she is as much afraid of children of her own age as if they were Indians."

"I think she will do very well," said Mrs. Richardson. "Blandina and her room-mate are very nice, kind, well-principled girls; and if they have your niece in their room, they will keep a kind of oversight of her, and help her when she needs help."

Meantime Percy's conductor led her up-stairs, through a passage, and then at right angles by another passage, and then down two steps to an open door.

"This is our room," said she, as she entered. "My cousin and I sleep in the large bed, and this will be yours in here. It is a little place, you see, but comfortable enough; and you can study here or in the large room just as you like, only you know we shall expect you to be quiet when we are busy. What did your aunt call you—Percy? What an odd pretty name!"

"My real name is Perseverance," replied Percy, rather wondering at herself for not feeling as shy as she had expected. "I think it is a dreadful name: don't you?"

"Oh, it is not half so bad as mine!" returned her companion, laughing. "Mine is Blandina Violetta St. Clair. It sounds exactly like a name in a novel. They call me Blandy, which is not quite so bad. Well, how do you like your room?"

"I think it is very pretty," replied Percy; and indeed it was, being nicely carpeted and papered, and tastefully though plainly furnished.

"You can bring some little things from home to ornament it, you know," observed Miss St. Clair. "Those brackets are Jenny's and mine, and so are the pictures."

"I always thought it would be very nice to have a great many pretty little things," said Percy, venturing on an original remark. "Mamma never could, because she and papa were always travelling about, and living in camps; and an officer's wife can only have just so much baggage, you know."

Blandina did not know, and began asking Percy questions, and before they had made the round of the house, they were so well acquainted that Percy ventured to ask about the lessons.

"I suppose they are very hard."

"Oh, no," replied Blandina: "we are never allowed but three at the most; and the teachers are very good at explaining. But then we must mind what we are about, and do our best."

"I don't mind that. I like to work hard when I do work," said Percy; "but I am afraid I shall be very ignorant and backward, because I have never been to school. I have always done my lessons at home with my father or mother."

"Don't you borrow any trouble about that," said Blandina. "Miss Reynolds says she likes to teach girls who have never been to school, because they have so much general information."

By the time Percy had finished seeing the house and returned to the parlour, she felt considerably reassured, and bade her aunt "Good-by" without crying. She did not very much mind the long tea-tables; and she managed to get through the recreation hour very well, by dint of keeping very close to Blandina. The reading hour was quite delightful, when all the girls were assembled in the great room with their work-baskets, their mending, and their fancy work, while one of their number read aloud. Percy had no work, and seeing one of the elder girls winding some worsted on her arm, she plucked up courage to offer her hands as a reel. Mrs. Richardson noticed the movement, as she did most things, and was pleased to see it.

But with bedtime came a renewal of Percy's terrors and forebodings. She must say her prayers and read her Bible. She had promised her mother that she would never sleep without reading at least three verses in the Bible: but "Oh, how could she do so before those strange girls, and especially before Miss Merton, whom she had never seen?" She was to have a lamp of her own in a few days, but at present she depended on that in the large room. Suppose they should laugh at her? Suppose they should laugh and talk while she was reading? With all her shyness and timidity Percy never thought for a moment of giving up her devotions. She belonged to that class of brave cowards who are greatly annoyed but never conquered by their own fears.

But she made herself very miserable during the forty minutes when the other girls were studying, and while she, having no lessons to prepare, sat with her eyes fixed on a story-book which Blandina had borrowed for her; and it was with a terrible sinking of heart that she followed her companions up-stairs to their room. Miss Merton had been spending the evening out of the house. She was quite a grown-up young lady, and looked, Percy thought, very elegant and fashionable in her black silk; but she kissed Percy and made her welcome; saying, at the same time, that it would seem pleasant to have a little girl with them again. There was a quiet chat while they were undressing and brushing their hair; and then Jenny said to Blandina in French:

"Shall we ask her to read with us?"

"Yes, I think so," answered Blandina, and then in English: "Percy, would you like to read your Bible alone or with us? We read a chapter, verse about, at night."

Percy's heart rose with a rebound.

"I should like it very much, if you please; but—" she added, with a desperate effort, "I think I ought to tell you and Miss Merton that I understand French, because you might say something you didn't want me to hear."

The girls looked at each other, and then Jenny bent down and kissed Percy again.

"You are a dear, honest little girl, and I am sure we shall get on nicely together. I am glad that you speak French, because we can talk together; and it is such good practice. But where did you learn to speak French?"

"Papa taught me. His father was of French descent, and all the family speak the language. It comes almost as natural to me as English."

"Well, we will have our reading, and go to bed," said Blandina. "It is almost time to put out the light."

When Percy said her prayers that night she did not forget to thank her heavenly Father for making everything so smooth and easy for her in her new home; but she did not think to ask Him to keep her from useless fears in future. She had not yet found out that her habit of making herself miserable by borrowing trouble was a fault.

The next morning she was examined in her studies, and, very much to her own surprise and pleasure, she was put into the intermediate instead of into the primary department, as she had expected.