style="font-size:15px;"> “That is a voice I know,” said Jane, stepping to the door. “My dear Miss Damer, I wish to speak to you.” Miss Vincent and her friend instantly retreated, and the young lady entered the summer-house with a blushing face.
“Here is a young lady,” said Jane, “who is a stranger; and I may add, that she is in a strange land. In introducing her to you, Miss Damer, I hope I am securing a friend for her: one who will not behold her insulted.”
Tears now rushed from Miss Arden’s eyes. “O! ma’am, I cannot thank you as I feel! Hitherto, I have only known rudeness and unkindness! When I lost my father, I thought, in coming to England—England, so famed for every thing great and noble—that I should be a stranger to all sorrow but that of remembrance.”
Miss Damer was too much moved to express herself as she wished. “Come,” said Jane, in a cheerful voice, “we must not have sorrow at this our first meeting. I perceive that Miss Damer and you will be friends, so come with me; you shall be my guests this evening, and we will leave the other young ladies to my sister.”
With a countenance expressive of kindness, Jane took an arm of each of the young ladies, and walked with them up the garden. As she passed Miss Vincent and her companion, she said very quietly, “Young ladies, I hope you will conduct yourselves better to-morrow.”
CHAPTER IV
When Miss Vincent entered the music-room to receive her first lesson, with haughty indifference she seated herself at the piano, and in a careless manner began a voluntary. Elizabeth, who was reading a letter, now closed it, leisurely opened a book, and desired her to play the lesson to which she pointed.
“This piece, ma’am! Gravana thinks English music despicable.”
“And English manners, I presume?”
“Manners, ma’am! Madame La Blond’s was a fashionable seminary.”
“And what is fashion, my dear?”
“Oh, nothing—nothing, ma’am, but doing as we please: we seldom saw Madame except in evening parties.”
“Then to whom were you indebted for instruction?”
“To our masters, ma’am,” said Miss Vincent, in a tone of surprise. “At Madame La Blond’s we were instructed in all the sciences; in the nature of valves; the specific gravity of bodies; the astonishing properties of magnetic steel; and how many thousand miles the sun was from the earth.”
“And perhaps you were told, by what means Archimedes burned the ships of Marcellus, at the siege of Syracuse?”
“O no, ma’am; but we learned the art of memorizing by hieroglyphics. This formed a part of our morning exercises.”
“Pray, my dear,” said Elizabeth very gravely, “can you repeat the multiplication table throughout?”
Miss Vincent hesitated. “I know very little, ma’am, of figures: our studies were in general of the highest order. But it was a charming seminary! We had no particular rules; we could go to rest, or rise when we pleased; and favourites were always asked to dance with select parties in an evening.”
“I seriously regret,” said Elizabeth, “that we have robbed Madame La Blond of so amiable a pupil.”
“Madame, I assure you, ma’am, lamented it. She told Papa I was the chief ornament of her school. But he was very angry,—I don’t know why; but he questioned me so closely, that I might as well have been before a court-martial. Indeed I am certain he would have ordered me, had I been a private soldier, to the triangle, merely because I said that Madame despised people in trade.”
“And your Papa really vindicated trade!”
“Oh, ma’am, the Colonel has strange plebeian notions. I never saw him so angry as he was when I told him that we—I mean ladies of a certain rank—had been the means of sending a merchant’s daughter from school, by styling her ‘Miss Thimbleton,’ and ‘the little seamstress.’ Her mamma had the meanness, I may say the impertinence, to send vulgar check muslin to be made into a frock, at Madame La Blond’s! We took care, however, to break the needles, and burn the thread.”
“I hope you have finished your remarks: be pleased, now, to listen to me. In consequence of the close intimacy that exists between our families, I pass over your presuming manner this morning; but recollect,” said Elizabeth with firmness, “that it shall never be repeated. If you dare to disobey, expect punishment. From this time you are never to speak to me, unless I ask a question. Now play the lesson I proposed.”
CHAPTER V
Mrs. Adair had selected from the first class four young ladies, to regulate the younger pupils. They were to hear them repeat their lessons before they entered the school-room; they were likewise to mark the errors in their exercises, and endeavour, not only to instruct but amuse.
It has been said that by teaching others we gain knowledge ourselves. Miss Damer was fully aware of this truth; all her leisure time, therefore, was devoted to the young people under her care. She had only three, and they had very different abilities: Miss Bruce’s capacity was bright, but she loved to defer all to the last moment; there was a mixture of good sense and childishness in her character, and she was warm and impetuous. Isabella Vincent had moderate abilities, but a very persevering temper; whatever she had to learn, she laboured at it with her whole heart, and her disposition was placid and amiable. Miss Grey was a clever girl; she had been at an excellent school, and was proficient in most of the minor branches of education. She was fond of exercising her ingenuity to amuse her companions. One evening she had collected a party round her, intending to divert them with new grammatical exercises.
“Now, ladies,” she cried, as she held a paper in her hand, “are you all ready, all prepared to listen and to learn? Miss Isabella Vincent, what are you doing? I am certain you do not mean to attend.”
“If she will not attend,” said Miss Damer, stepping into the circle, “I am quite prepared—”
“Oh, Miss Damer, are you here?” cried Miss Bruce: “we shall have no fun now! I thought you were in the drawing-room.”
“Cheerfulness is one thing, fun another; but when they both come together, they are often noisy companions so we must do without them here.”
“But we did not think you would come to us this evening,” said Miss Grey. “Oh, do, Miss Damer, leave us to ourselves one half hour.”
“First let me read the paper you are trying to conceal.”
“You will only think it nonsense,” said Miss Grey; “but don’t be angry, I beg, for it was only for our diversion.”
Miss Damer began to read:
‘Mrs. Adair, substantive proper.’
“Very improper to take this liberty.” ‘Singular number, feminine gender, indicative mood, perfect tense; face, mind, and figure, in the superlative degree.—Miss Warner inclining to the acute accent.’
“But what is she?” asked Miss Damer.
“A noun proper, certainly, and of the singular number.”
‘Miss Cotton, demonstrative pronoun; compare good, and she is in the superlative degree.
‘Miss
