Chippinge Borough. Weyman Stanley John

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СКАЧАТЬ dignified of mien than usual, and more highly powdered of nose, the schoolmistress was dividing her attention between the culprit in the corner, the elms outside-between which fledgeling rooks were making adventurous voyages-and the longcloth which she was preparing for the young ladies' plain-sewing; for in those days plain-sewing was still taught in the most select academies. Nor, while she was thus engaged in providing for the domestic training of her charges, was she without assurance that their minds were under care. The double doors which separated the schoolroom from the parlour were ajar, and through the aperture one shrill voice after another could be heard, raised in monotonous perusal of Mrs. Chapone's "Letters to a Young Lady upon the Improvement of the Mind."

      Miss Sibson wore her best dress, of black silk, secured half-way down the bodice by the large cameo brooch. But neither this nor the reading in the next room could divert her attention from her duties.

      "The tongue," she enunciated with great clearness, as she raised the longcloth in both hands and carefully inspected it over her glasses, "is an unruly member. Ill-nature," she continued, slowly meting off a portion, and measuring a second portion against it, "is the fruit of a bad heart. Our opinions of others" – this with a stern look at Miss Hilhouse, fourteen years old, and in disgrace-"are the reflections of ourselves."

      The young lady, who was paying with the backboard for a too ready wit, put out the unruly member, and, narrowly escaping detection, looked inconceivably sullen.

      "The face is the mirror to the mind," Miss Sibson continued thoughtfully, as she threaded a needle against the light. "I hope, Miss Hilhouse, that you are now sorry for your fault."

      Miss Hilhouse maintained a stolid silence. Her shoulders ached, but she was proud.

      "Very good," said Miss Sibson placidly; "very good! With time comes reflection."

      Time, a mere minute, brought more than reflection. A gentleman walked quickly across the fore-court to the door, the knocker fell sharply, and Miss Hilhouse's sullenness dropped from her. She looked first uncomfortable, then alarmed. "Please, may I go now?" she muttered.

      Wise Miss Sibson paid no heed. "A gentleman?" she said to the maid who had entered. "Will I see him? Procure his name."

      "Oh, Miss Sibson," came from the corner in an agonised whisper, "please may I go?" Fourteen standing on a stool with a backboard could not bear to be seen by the other sex.

      Miss Sibson looked grave. "Are you sincerely sorry for your fault?" she asked.

      "Yes."

      "And will you apologise to Miss Smith for your-your gross rudeness?"

      "Ye-es."

      "Then go and do so," Miss Sibson replied; "and close the doors after you."

      The girl fled. And simultaneously Miss Sibson rose, with a mixture of dignity and blandness, to receive Arthur Vaughan. The schoolmistress of that day who had not manner at command had nothing; for deportment ranked among the essentials. And she was quite at her case. The same could not be said of the gentleman. But that his pride still smarted, but that the outrage of yesterday was fresh, but that he drew a savage satisfaction from the prospect of the apologies he was here to receive, he had not come. Even so, he had told himself more than once that he was a fool to come; a fool to set foot in the house. He was almost sure that he had done more wisely had he burned the letter in which the schoolmistress informed him that she had an explanation to offer-and so had made an end.

      But if in place of meeting him with humble apologies, this confounded woman were going to bear herself as if no amends were due, he had indeed made a mistake.

      Yet her manner said almost as much as that. "Pray be seated, sir," she said; and she indicated a chair.

      He sat down stiffly, and glowered at her. "I received your note," he said.

      She smoothed her ample lap, and looked at him more graciously. "Yes," she said, "I was relieved to find that the unfortunate occurrence of yesterday was open to another explanation."

      "I have yet," he said curtly, "to hear the explanation." Confound the woman's impudence!

      "Exactly," she said slowly. "Exactly. Well, it turns out that the parcel you left behind you when you" – for an instant a smile broke the rubicund placidity of her face-"when you retired so hurriedly contained a pelisse."

      "Indeed?" he said drily.

      "Yes; and a letter."

      "Oh?"

      "Yes; a letter from a lady who has for some years taken an interest in Miss Smith. The pelisse proved to be a gift from her."

      "Then I fail to see-"

      "Exactly," Miss Sibson interposed blandly, indeed too blandly. "You fail to see why you came to be selected as the bearer? So do I. Perhaps you can explain that."

      "No," he answered shortly. "Nor is that my affair. What I fail to see, Madam, is why Miss Smith did not at once suspect that the present came from the lady in question."

      "Because," Miss Sibson replied, "the lady was not known to be in this part of England; and because you, sir, maintained that Miss Smith had left the parcel in the coach."

      "I maintained what I was told."

      "But it was not the fact. However, let that pass."

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