at collusion between Miss Ross and myself, I can say that we never exchanged a word until an hour since. My desk adjoins hers; it was this circumstance which furnished me with the knowledge of her morning's occupation."
"I beg you will not subject yourself to further insult, upon my account," interrupted Ida, whose figure had dilated and heightened during the colloquy;—then to him—"Once more I command you to stand aside! If you do not obey, I shall call Mr. Purcell." As if he had heard the threatened appeal, the principal appeared in the doorway, in blank astonishment at the novel aspect of affairs. Alboni commenced a hurried jargon, inarticulate through haste and rage; Ida stood with folded arms, her countenance settled in such proud scorn as Lucifer would have envied and striven to imitate. The prudent preceptor perceived at a glance the danger of present investigation; and abruptly declaring the lesson concluded, appointed an hour on the morrow for a hearing of the case. That evening, for the first time in many months, Ida voluntarily sought her guardian's presence. Josephine was in her room, and he was left to the enjoyment of solitude and the newspaper. He arose at the approach of his visitant, and offered her a chair. In these little matters of etiquette, he was particular to punctiliousness; carrying his business habits of law and order into every thing. The paper was replaced upon the stand; the spectacles wiped and returned to their case; and those matter-of-fact eyes raised with an interrogative look.
"You have been informed of the altercation that occurred in the Italian class to-day?" Ida said, waiving the preliminary remarks.
"Josephine mentioned it."
"May I ask what was her version of it?"
"It was a statement of facts."
"Doubtless. Then, sir, you are aware that I have been wantonly and grossly insulted by a man for whom I have no respect; that in the presence of the entire class, I was forced to listen to language, which, uttered by one man to another, would be met by prompt chastisement; you are furthermore advised of the fact that he, whose duty it is to protect those whom he instructs, instead of compelling the creature to apologize upon his knees, 'postponed inquiry until to-morrow.'"
"And very properly, too."
"Unquestionably, sir!" with the sarcastic smile which accompanied her former assent. "My object in seeking this interview, is to request your attendance upon that occasion. I shall not be present."
"And why not?"
"Because, sir, I will not be confronted with that odious reptile, and give my testimony in his hearing. Judging from the past, and the knowledge of mankind I have acquired under your tuition, nothing that I can say will avail to secure me justice. Mr. Purcell cannot obtain a better teacher, and it is as politic in Alboni to remain. There will be an amicable settlement; and my word will be a knot in the chain of satisfactory evidence they will elicit. The young ladies will, of course, side with 'the gentlemen.'"
"But why am I to be there?—to receive Alboni's apology?"
"I want none, sir—I will hear none. I have been called a liar! his pitiful life could not expiate the offence!"
"You are savage, young lady! you wish, perhaps, that I should pistol him."
"I thank you, sir, for recalling by your ridicule, the remembrance that this is a business interview. What I ask is this:— that you announce to Signor Alboni the termination of my studies with him, and pay his bill."
"Do you know, that although it is only the second week of the session, you will be charged for the term?"
"I do, sir."
"What if I refuse to discharge the debt?"
"I shall liquidate it with the money intended for my personal expenses."
"And if I forbid this, and command you to continue your lessons?"
"I shall refuse obedience to a demand you have not the right to make."
"Miss Ross! do you know to whom you are speaking?"
"I address Mr. Read."
"And your guardian, young lady!"
"The guardian of my property, sir."
"You are under no obligations to me, I suppose."
"None that I am conscious of. You are paid for your services and my board."
"There are cares for which money can offer no adequate compensation."
"Indeed, sir! I thought gold a cure for every ill; a reward for every toil. But we are digressing. You will do as I wish?"
"Resume your seat, if you please! The hope that I might have regarded your request favorably, is lessened by your unbecoming deportment. You are ignorant of any benefits I have conferred upon you! Since you will have a debit and credit account, I will enlighten you on this point. You came into this house two years ago—a romantic, sentimental, mawkish, spoiled child; weeping at every word which happened to jar upon your exquisite sensibilities; an unsophisticated simpleton; a fit prey for any bungler in deception; unformed in manner; womanish in feeling, and extravagant in expression. You have now, although but seventeen years of age, more sense and self-possession than most women of double your years; control the weaknesses which rendered you so ridiculous; are accomplished and respected; in short, I say it without flattery to myself, or to you, bid fair to fill your position in society creditably. You have still obstacles to surmount; but I have judged your failings leniently, attributing them, mainly, to the defects in your early training. If your mother had had the wisdom and discretion"—
"Stop, sir, stop!" exclaimed the girl, rising from her chair, and trembling in every limb with excitement "Take not the name of my holy mother upon your lips—still less cast the shadow of reproach upon her conduct! You have taught me the corruption of human nature—have crushed all the warm affections I had been instructed to cherish;—have made the life my young mind pictured so inviting, a desert waste, inhabited by wily monsters;—but over the wreck there shines one ray, the memory of an angel lent to earth! For her sake I live among those whose form she wore, but with whose foul hearts hers could have had no fellowship. You tell me she was like the rest, that the religion, in her so lovely, is a delusion—and I answer, I do not believe you. In her name I refute your vile sophisms! Heaven knows how little I have profited by her counsels and example. I loathe myself! 'A woman,' you said! rather a fiend! for such is woman when she buries her heart, nor mourns above its grave. 'Control my feelings!' I do! I have driven back the tears until the scalding waves have killed whatever in my soul could boast a heavenly birth. There is nothing there to prove my relationship to my mother, but her memory. When that is destroyed I shall go mad. I am on the verge of insanity now—I often am! I do not doubt your assertions as to your, and shame on me that I should say it, my brethren; for in yourself I see all the traits you ascribe to them. Woman, you say, belongs to an order of yet inferior beings; and in your daughter I have an illustration of this; for she inherits her father's character, combined with a meaner mind. You consider that I owe you respect—I do not! I am superior to you both, for I still struggle with the emotions our Creator kindled up within us, and sent us to earth to extinguish. Within your bosoms there are only cold ashes. Frown as you please! your anger intimidates as little as your ridicule abashes. The idea once entered my mind that I could win you and your child to love me. I could laugh at the thought; that was in my sentimental days, when I deemed that the desolate orphan must find affection somewhere. My most 'extravagant' imaginings never paint such a possibility now. I have done. We understand each other. The contempt you had for the 'mawkish' baby, cannot equal mine for
