Читать книгу Zula - H. Esselstyn Lindley - Страница 8

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Neither Mr. Platts nor his wife had the remotest idea of giving Zula a permanent home, but there seemed nothing else to do but to let her remain, and as the days wore on, she seemed to be almost necessary to their household. She was ready to help in numerous ways and never expressed the least dissatisfaction when called upon to perform any duty, and to Mary’s comfort she seemed quite indispensable. Mr. Platts had remarked to his wife that it seemed a pity that Zula was growing up without at least a common education, and so after talking the matter over they decided to send her to school. She possessed a very strange nature; a strong will and a somewhat passionate temper, that had been tortured beyond the limits of saintly endurance; and though she was deeply affectionate, she was as strong to hate. The treatment which she had received had served to augment the fire of an already hasty temperament, and, never having received a kind word, it is not surprising that she hardly knew what love meant until she became an inmate of Mr. Platts’ home. As she looked each day on the still handsome faces of her kind 36 friends, she thought that, were it asked of her, she could give her life for their happiness. She was delighted when the plan of sending her to school was made known to her for, to use her own expression, “she could be like other girls,” and she really longed to know what school life was. She could forget neither a favor nor an injury, and it was not surprising that the children with whom she came in contact should often say that she was “a spunky little thing.”

“Don’t you think,” said one of her schoolmates to another, “that Zula is a mean little thing?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” answered the other. “What makes you think so?”

“Because she said the other day that she would slap my face.”

“What made her say that?”

“Why, just because I called her a little gypsy. I don’t care, now she does look just like one, doesn’t she?”

“Why, she has got black hair and black eyes, but lots of people have black hair and eyes who are not gypsies. I don’t believe gypsies ever have such beautiful shaped hands and fingers as she has.”

“But she has a black face, too.”

“Oh, no, her face isn’t black; it’s dark and so is your sister Cora’s.”

“Oh, look, there comes a band of gypsies; now just look how dirty some of them look, and what loads of beads they have in their baskets. I wish we had some, don’t you?”

At that moment Zula had reached the spot where the girls were standing.

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“Dasn’t you go and ask them gypsies for some beads?” said the first speaker to Zula.

“No, I don’t like beads,” said Zula, hurrying on, and springing lightly into the doorway. Her face was pale and her heart beat quick and hard. She hurried up the stairway, which was well crowded with pupils, and gave a sigh of relief as she reached the top.

“What is the matter?” a teacher asked, who stood near. “Are you ill?”

“I had a pain in my side when I ran up stairs,” replied Zula.

She had seen Crisp and she knew that should he discover that she was there hope was lost.

“Oh, before I would be such a little coward, oh, ho! Afraid of a band of gypsies!” said a rude boy.

“I ain’t afraid,” said Zula, with flashing eyes.

“Oh, but they do say, though, that they will steal little boys and girls and take them away off,” said another.

“They won’t take her though,” broke in a third party, “she looks so much like one; they’d rather have little white ones.”

“Hush,” said the teacher, as Zula stepped forward and raised her hand as if to strike the offender, “stop this quarreling at once.”

Zula dropped her hand and turned quickly away. Her first impulse had been to strike the boy who had insulted her so, but her better nature prevailed and instead of angry words tears were called forth. The teacher after sternly rebuking the boy turned to Zula, saying:

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“I am glad you did not give way to your passion. It was very good and brave of you.”

She looked out of the schoolroom window and saw the gypsy band turn down the road, which she knew they would take in their route from the city, for it was now about the latter part of September. She knew they had delayed starting out in the hope of finding her, but she concluded that they had given up the search. How her heart leaped as she saw Crisp moving away. He was her brother, but she could not remember one kind word he had ever spoken to her. She could not remember one kind act from her mother—not even one look. She wondered why it was that they seemed to hate her very presence and she sincerely hoped that she had looked on them for the last time. She was but a child, but she had experienced a woman’s heartaches. Only eleven summers had passed over her head, and yet she had seen no childhood. She was brave and ambitious, which traits were more essential than self-esteem, so that if she did sometimes get discouraged, and think she was the dullest person in the whole school, others looked on and admired the work she finally wrought. It was perhaps quite as well that she was ignorant of her own ability, for she had never possessed the opportunity to gain the first rudiments of a school education, and it was remarkable how rapidly she advanced. Had she known her capacity for devouring knowledge she might have been less eager to make up for lost time. The idea that there were any idle moments to be spent in the schoolroom never presented itself to her mind. Thus her time was well improved.

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