Boarding Round/Chapter 14

Ever since the morning when James Ray Sears caught his first glimpse of Helen Porter, as she appeared with an old mop in her hand, trying to clean up the dirty floor of the schoolhouse, he had wished to make further acquaintance with the family to which she belonged. But he did not think it best immediately to make any movement in that direction. The sage advice of the old man with the alder pole, remained in mind. He resolved at once that he would follow it. He would not show any partiality to any one of his scholars. His quick discernment of the meaning of the almost overmastering impulses of his newly awakened heart, showed him that he had a task before him. And this task grew no less heavy with the varied developments of his work in the school. It was always a lonely day to him if Helen was not present. But he found it just impossible to keep from her all knowledge of his peculiar regard. And he did not wish to. But how to keep this feeling of his wholly unnoticed ​by the other scholars, was the problem. Yet he must solve the problem rightly; and he resolved that he would do it, cost him what it might. He would not at once go to her father's house to board. He would not be seen walking with her. No one should see him talking with her, in any private fashion. In short, he would do nothing to lead any person to suspect that he cherished a love in his heart that was becoming an all absorbing passion. And yet with all his rigid self-control, he still did find abundant opportunity to show to her more and more clearly what his real feelings were. Neither did she make any attempt to conceal from him the supreme gladness of her responsive love. At the same time, like the true and sensible girl that she was, she would be as careful as he to conceal these things from the scholars, and from the public. Her mother even should not know. She must wait for her time to be informed. Helen had no fear of objection to her course. Present necessity must determine what was present wisdom.

Meantime, without any inquiry of his, Mr. Sears not unfrequently overheard something said, regarding the Porter family, which made him feel sure that everything was not all right there. They were in straitened circumstances—that was evident from the first. The children's clothes, though neat, were patched. There were two in school, younger ​than Helen. So the teacher must go there to board sometime. He made up his mind that, on the whole, it was not best that he wait longer. So he sent a word of inquiry to Mrs. Porter, whether it would be convenient for her to receive him for a few days' stay, at her home. The reply was a cordial invitation to come at his own convenience. Helen was both pleased and anxious. Her teacher would have liked very much to know something further about her home, before going to it; but what she had not chosen to tell him, that he did not wish to learn of her. He could trust her good sense in what she would do.

After some thought as to what he had best do, it occurred that he might mention to Mrs. Hale, as it were incidentally, his plan to board with the Porters the next week. If they should see fit, they might give him useful information. He was somewhat surprised when Mrs. Hale said:

"I am glad, Mr. Sears, you let me know of what you propose to do. Mr. Porter is my nephew. He is naturally a man of good parts, and of good intentions. But I may say to you confidentially that he is intemperate. He has almost ruined himself, and brought his family to ruin, by his excessive use of liquor. He married one of the most beautiful girls of this town, and of one of the best families. Everything went on nicely for a ​while, when he learned to drink. They have four children, three of them in school. You find them good scholars I think."

"Yes," interrupted the master, "very good scholars. I have learned to think much of them."

"Mr. Porter," Mrs. Hale continued, "is now a good, kind-hearted man, when he is himself. But when he gets down a sufficient quantity of Huggins' poisonous liquor, he is just a demon."

"Perhaps then, Mrs. Hale, you think I had better not go there."

"Oh, no, not that at all. They would not wish you to suppose that they cannot care for the schoolteacher as well as others. But if you can tell me when you will go there, I will see that everything is all right. You need not say so, but we care for them sometimes, in considerable part."

This opened the whole matter wide to the teacher's understanding. He did not despise Helen because of the domestic misfortune in which she was involved. It only drew his heart more closely to her. He began to love her now, not only because of her surpassing beauty, but because of what she was. He could see that the discipline of her young life was planting in her soul some of the noblest qualities. Then Mr. Sears ventured to add:

"I noticed that she was not at the singing school, for the first lesson, last week. It ​seems as if she ought to go; she has a voice that only needs cultivation."

"Yes, her voice is as sweet as she is," answered Mrs. Hale. "Perhaps some way may be devised for her going," she added thoughtfully.

The teacher now recalled himself. Perhaps he had said what he ought not to. Perhaps he had made a rift in the cloud with which he had so carefully enveloped himself. He would say no more. Mrs. Hale asked no questions, and the matter was dropped.

The day came for the teacher to begin the visiting which he had been postponing until now.

That day, before Helen Porter went to school, her mother said to her, "Helen, dear, do you remember what day this is?"

"I think I do, Mother."

"Seventeen! Somebody else has remembered your birthday, too."

"Why, dearest Mammal who has given me this?"

"Your Aunt Emily has had this gown made for you,—for your birthday present. And this little purse goes with it."

"Dear Aunt Emily Hale! A beautiful new dress, and five dollars! Well, well, am I not fortunate!"

"She said she was giving the money that you might join the singing class."

"Oh, I am so glad to go!"

​Helen Porter had many happy thoughts while at school that day. And she had anxious thoughts, too. Her teacher would accompany her home after school that evening.

Mr. Sears received a most cordial welcome. Everything about the Porter home indicated elegance of furnishings, and comfortable living, in former days. Now some things were out of repair, and it was evident that they were not being kept up. Yet tidiness and neatness characterized every part of the house. The master was at once introduced to the quiet restfulness of his own room, where a fire was kept, and water, towels, toilet articles, and a few books were ready for his use. He had not found similar provision for his comfort at any other place, excepting the Congregational parsonage. He had been received with equal kindness at other places, but not with such thoughtfulness of what a tired schoolmaster needs. Mrs. Porter had been brought up in a family of culture and refinement. She knew well what is necessary to make a guest feel at home. She did what she could, but found it hard "making bricks without straw."

Mr. Porter had promised her that he would come home early, which meant that he would come home sober.

That was the evening of the singing school. Mr. Sears said to Helen that it might be well ​for her to take a friend of hers, who lived near, and go with her to the singing class, while he himself, after attending to a little work for the morrow, would go on later. And if some young fellow should propose to her—as doubtless some one would—to accompany her home, it would be well to let him have the enjoyment of it. This plan was carried out.

Mr. Porter came home late to his supper. He was in bad condition. He inquired where his girl was. When told that she had gone to the singing school, "How did she go? Did the schoolmaster take her? I thought he was to be here to-night."

"He has gone to the singing school, but he didn't go with Helen. She went with Lucy Smith."

"Well, where did she get her money to go?"

"Aunt Emily made her a birthday present of five dollars, besides a new dress."

"Oh, 'tis her birthday. I thought of it this morning. I ought to have given the present myself. We aren't so poor but we can do something. I'm not going to have other folks care for my children."

"But, dear, you know Aunt Emily is very kind."

"Yes, kind, but—"

"You are very tired. You need to rest. The bed is warm and nice. Now you get a ​good rest to-night, dear, and in the morning the master will be here, and we'll have a good visit with him."

After a good deal of persuasion Mr. Porter retired, to sleep off his intoxication. In the morning he was himself. After a pleasant visit with the teacher, at the breakfast table, he went to his work. If he could only have gone in another direction! He had to pass Mr. Huggins' store. And he would not pass it; he would go in. He had got himself into such a physical condition, that he felt as if he could not begin a day's work without whiskey. When sober he would yield to entreaties, and make promises, but all to no purpose.

The young men at the singing class were not at all displeased to see Helen Porter there. Neither were they willing that she should be obliged to go home alone. Several of them were ready to do what one of them succeeded in doing.

As to the schoolmaster, after some very interesting conversation with the correspondent of The Looking-glass, he made bold to say to her that, if she had no escort home, it would be a pleasure to him to render any such service. And when she, with timid modesty, assured him that the pleasure would not all be on his part, he went with her. In her next letter to the paper, there was a glowing account of the singing school, the previous ​Wednesday evening. Among those present were Mr. James Ray Sears, the teacher of the school in the Corner district, Miss Eunice Delano, the Rev. Mr. Watkins, and others.