by L. T. Meade
emotion before them.
At this moment a soft, plump little hand was slipped into hers, and thesweetest of voices said--
"I am so sorry anything has seemed unkind to you. Believe me, we arenot what you imagine. We have our fun and our prejudices, of course,but we are not what you think we are."
Priscilla could not help smiling, nor could she resist slightlysqueezing the fingers which touched hers.
"You are not unkind, I know," she answered; and she ate the rest of herdinner in a comforted frame of mind.
After dinner one of the lecturers who resided at Heath Hall, a pleasant,bright girl of two- or three-and-twenty, came and introduced herself,and presently took Priscilla with her to her own room, to talk over theline of study which the young girl proposed to take up. This conferencelasted some little time, and then Priscilla, in the lecturer's company,returned to the hall for tea.
A great many girls kept coming in and out. Some stayed to have tea, butmost helped themselves to tea and bread-and-butter, and took them awayto partake of in their own private rooms.
Maggie Oliphant and Nancy Banister presently rushed in for this purpose.Maggie, seeing Priscilla, ran up to her.
"How are you getting on?" she asked brightly. "Oh, by-the-bye, will youcocoa with me to-night at half-past ten?"
"I don't know what you mean," answered Priscilla. "But I'll do it," sheadded, her eyes brightening.
"All right, I'll explain the simple ceremony when you come. My room isnext to yours, so you'll have no difficulty in finding me out. I don'texpect to have anyone present except Miss Banister," nodding her head inNancy's direction, "and perhaps one other girl. By-bye, I'll see you athalf-past ten."
Maggie turned to leave the hall, but Nancy lingered for a moment byPriscilla's side.
"Wouldn't you like to take your tea up to your room?" she asked. "Wemost of us do it. You may, you know."
"I don't think I wish to," answered Priscilla, in an uncertain voice.
Nancy half-turned to go, then came back.
"You are going to unpack by-and-by, aren't you?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, when I get back to my room."
"Perhaps you ought to know beforehand; the girls will be coming tocall."
Priscilla raised her eyes.
"What girls?" she asked, alarm in her tone.
"Oh, most of the students in your corridor. They always call on aFresher the first night in her room. You need not bother yourself aboutthem; they'll just talk for a little while and then go away. What isthe matter, Miss Peel? Maggie has told me your name, you see."
"What you tell me sounds so very--very formal."
"But it isn't--not really. Shall I come and help you to entertainthem?"
"I wish--" began Priscilla. She hesitated; the words seemed to stick inher throat.
"What did you say?" Nancy bent forward a little impatiently.
"I wish--yes, do come," with a violent effort. "All right, you mayexpect me."
Nancy flew after Maggie Oliphant, and Priscilla went slowly up the wide,luxurious stairs. She turned down the corridor which led to her ownroom. There were doors leading out of this corridor at both sides, andPriscilla caught glimpses of luxurious rooms bright with flowers andelectric light. Girls were laughing and chatting in them; she sawpictures on the walls, and lounges and chairs scattered about. Her ownroom was at the far end of the corridor. The electric light was alsobrightening it, but the fire was unlit, and the presence of the unpackedtrunk, taking up a position of prominence on the floor, gave it a veryunhomelike feel. In itself the room was particularly picturesque. Ithad two charming lattice windows, set in deep square bays. One windowfaced the fireplace, the other the door. The effect was slightlyirregular, but for that very reason all the more charming. The walls ofthe room were painted light blue; there was a looking-glass over themantelpiece set in a frame of the palest, most delicate, blue. Apicture-rail ran round the room about six feet from the ground, and thehigh frieze above had a scroll of wild roses painted on it in bold, freerelief.
The panels of the doors were also decorated with sprays of wild flowersin picturesque confusion. Both the flowers and the scroll were boldlydesigned, but were unfinished, the final and completing touchesremaining yet to be given.
Priscilla looked hungrily at these unexpected trophies of art. Shecould have shouted with glee as she recognised some of her dear, wildDevonshire flowers among the groups on the door panels. She wondered ifall the rest of the students were treated to these artistic decorations,and grew a little happier and less homesick at the thought.
Priscilla could have been an artist herself had the opportunity arisen,but she was one of those girls all alive with aspiration and longing whonever up to the present had come in the way of special culture in anystyle.
She stood for some time gazing at the groups of wild flowers, thenremembering with horror that she was to receive visitors that night, shelooked round the room to see if she could do anything to make it appearhome-like and inviting.
It was a nice room, certainly. Priscilla had never before in her wholelife occupied such a luxurious apartment, and yet it had a cold, dreary,uninhabited feel. She had an intuition that none of the other students'rooms looked like hers. She rushed to light the fire, but could notfind the matches, which had been removed from their place on themantelpiece, and felt far too shy to ring the electric-bell. It wasPriscilla's fashion to clasp her hands together when she felt a sense ofdismay, and she did so now, as she looked around the pretty room, whichyet with all its luxuries looked to her cold and dreary.
The furniture was excellent of its kind. A Turkey carpet covered thecentre of the floor, the boards round the edge were stained and brightlypolished. In one corner of the room was a little bed, made to look likea sofa by day, with a Liberty cretonne covering. A curtain of the sameshut away the wardrobe and washing apparatus. Just under one of thebay-windows stood a writing-table, so contrived as to form awriting-table, and a bookcase at the top, and a chest of drawers to holdlinen below. Besides this there was a small square table for tea in theroom, and a couple of chairs. The whole effect was undoubtedly bare.
Priscilla was hesitating whether to begin to unpack her trunk or notwhen a light knock was heard at her door. She said "Come in," and twogirls burst rather noisily into the apartment.
"How do you do?" they said, favouring the fresh girl with a brief nod."You came to-day, didn't you? What are you going to study? Are youclever?"
These queries issued rapidly from the lips of the tallest of the girls.She had red hair, tousled and tossed about her head. Her face wasessentially commonplace; her small restless eyes now glanced atPriscilla, now wandered over the room. She did not wait for a reply toany of her queries, but turned rapidly to her companion.
"I told you so, Polly," she said. "I was quite sure that she was goingto be put into Miss Lee's room. You see I'm right, this _is_ AnnabelLee's old room; it has never been occupied since."
"Hush!" said the other girl.
The two walked across the apartment and seated themselves on Priscilla'sbed.
There came a fresh knock at the door, and this time three studentsentered. They barely nodded to Priscilla, and then rushed across theroom with cries of rapture to greet the girls who were seated on thebed.
"How do you do, Miss Atkins? How do you do, Miss Jones?"
Miss Jones and Miss Atkins exchanged kisses with Miss Phillips, MissMarsh, and Miss Day. The babel of tongues rose high, and everyone hadsomething to say with regard to the room which had been assigned toPriscilla.
"Look," said Miss Day, "it was in that corner she had her rocking-chair.Girls, _do_ you remember Annabel's rocking-chair, and how she used tosway herself backwards and forwards in it, and half-shut her lovelyeyes?"
"Oh, and don't I just seem to _see_ that little red tea-table of hersnear the fire," burst from Miss Marsh. "That Japanese table, with theJapanese tea-set--oh dear, oh dear! those cups of tea--those cakes!
Well, the room _was_ luxurious, _was_ worth coming to see in Annabel'stime."
"It's more than it is now," laughed Miss Jones in a harsh voice. "Howbare the walls look without her pictures. It was in that recess thelarge figure of `Hope' by Burne-Jones used to hang, and there, thatqueer, wild, wonderful head looking out of clouds. You know she neverwould tell us the artist's name. Yes, she had pretty things everywhere!How the room is altered! I don't think I care for it a bit now."
"Could anyone who knew Annabel Lee care for the room without her?" askedone of the girls. She had a common, not to say vulgar, face, but itwore a wistful expression as she uttered these words.
All this time Priscilla was
