this latter conceit, and call it poetical ortrivial; for if I like to write in a sad strain, and so express mymeaning when I allude to dew-wet petals, where is the harm?
But to descend to everyday life. I talked a great deal just now aboutthe different visitors we had, and the behaviour of our vicar in thechurch; and really it was a very nice little church, though I did notlike the manners of some of the people who frequented it.
Allsham being a small country town, as a matter of course it possessedseveral grandees, some among whom figured upon Mrs Blunt's circular;and it used to be so annoying to see about half-a-dozen of these bigpeople cluster outside the porch in the churchyard, morning andafternoon, to converse, apparently, though it always seemed to me thatthey stood there to be bowed to by the tradesmen and mechanics. Theynever entered the church themselves until the clergyman was in thereading-desk, and the soft introductory voluntary was being played onthe organ by the Fraulein, who performed in the afternoon, the organistin the morning. Then the grandees would come marching in slowly andpompously as a flock of geese one after another into a barn, proceedingmajestically to their pews; when they would look into their hats for afew moments, seat themselves, and then stare round, as much as to say,"We are here now. You may begin."
It used to annoy me from its regularity and the noise their boots madewhile the clergyman was praying; for they might just as well have comein a minute sooner; but then it was the custom at Allsham, and I was buta visitor.
I did not get into any trouble until I had been there a month, whenMadame Blunt must give me an imposition of a hundred lines for laughingat her, when I'm sure no one could have helped it, try ever so hard. Inthe schoolroom there was a large, flat, boarded thing, about a foothigh, all covered with red drugget; and upon this used to stand MrsBlunt's table and chair, so that she was a great deal higher than anyoneelse, and could easily look over the room. Then so sure as she began tosit down upon this dais, as she used to call it, there was a great dealof fuss and arranging of skirts, and settling of herself into her chair,which she would then give two or three pushes back, and then fidgetforward; and altogether she would make more bother than one feelsdisposed to make sometimes upon being asked to play before company, whenthe music-stool requires so much arranging.
Now, upon the day in question she had come in with her head all on oneside, and pulling a sad long face, pretending the while to be verypoorly, because she was half-an-hour late, and we had been waiting forthe lesson she was down in the table to give. Then, as we had often hadit before, and knew perfectly well what was coming, she suddenly caughtsight of the clock.
"Dear me, Miss Sloman! Bless my heart, that clock is very much toofast," she would exclaim. "It cannot be nearly so late as that."
"I think it is quite right, Mrs de Blount," Miss Sloman would say,twitching her moustache.
"Oh, dear me, no, Miss Sloman; nothing like right. My pendule is quitedifferent."
Of course we girls nudged one another--that is not a nice word, butkicked or elbowed seems worse; and then, thinking I did not know, Clarawhispered to me that her ladyship always went on like that when she wasdown late of a morning. But I had noticed it several times before;while there it was, always the same tale, and the silly old ostrichnever once saw that we could see her when she had run her stupid oldhead in the sand.
Well, according to rule, she came in, found fault with the clock, buttook care not to have it altered to match her gimcrack French affair inher bedroom, which she always called her pendule. Then she climbed onto the dais; and, as usual, she must be very particular about thearrangement of the folds of her satin dress, which was one of thecompany or parent-seeing robes, now taken into everyday use.
"Look out," whispered Clara to me.
"What for?" I said, in the same low tone.
But instead of answering she pretended to be puzzled with something inher lesson, and got up to go and ask Miss Furness what it meant.
All this while Mrs Blunt was getting up and sitting down, and rustlingabout like an old hen in a dust-bath, to get herself in position; whenquite suddenly there was a sharp scream and a crash; and, on jumping up,I could see the lady principal upon the floor behind the dais where shehad pulled over the table, and the ink was trickling down upon her neck.
Of course, any lady in her senses would have got up directly, and triedto repair the mischief; but not she: for there she lay groaning as if interrible pain, as Miss Furness and Miss Sloman, one at either hand, weretrying to raise her, the Fraulein the while dragging off the table, andexclaiming in German; but not the slightest impression was made upon therecumbent mass--which seems to me the neatest way of saying "lying-downlump."
Clara ran out of the room, holding her handkerchief to her mouth, butpretending all the while to be frightened out of her wits; and then whata fuss there was getting the fallen one into her seat again--but not onthe dais--bathing her face, chafing her hands, sprinkling her with _Eaude Cologne_, holding salts to her nose; and it was just as she wasgroaning the loudest and sighing her worst that Clara came back, andbegan to look in her droll, comical way at me.
I had not seen through the trick at first; but all at once I recalledthat wicked girl's "Look out!" when it flashed through my mind in aninstant that she had moved back the chair and table upon the dais, sothat at the first good push back of her chair the poor woman fell down;and so, what with the thoughts of the wicked trick, and Mrs Blunt'slong-drawn face, and Clara's droll eyes peering at me so saucily, Icould not help it, but burst out into a loud laugh.
Talk of smelling-salts, and bathing, and chafing, why, they were asnothing in comparison with that laugh. Poor Mrs Blunt! I dare say shedid hurt herself, for she was stout and heavy; but she was well again inan instant, and looked at me in a horribly furious manner. But I didnot care--not a bit; and I could not help it, for it was not my fault Icould see though, that she thought that it was, as she burst out,--
"Miss Bozerne!"
"Such unladylike behaviour," chimed in Miss Furness.
"So cruel!" exclaimed Miss Sloman.
"Ach ten!" ejaculated the Fraulein; while I caught sight of Miss Murraylooking quite pained at me.
"I did not think that a young lady in my establishment would have beenguilty of such atrocious conduct," exclaimed Mrs Blunt furiously.
"No, indeed," said Miss Furness.
"Something entirely new," exclaimed Miss Sloman, tossing her prettyhead.
And there stood poor Miss Bozerne--poor me--feeling so red and eartingling; for though I said that I did not care, I did, and very muchtoo; but nothing should have made me confess that I knew the cause ofthe accident; and though all the while I was sure that dreadful MrsBlunt thought I had moved her chair, I bore it, determined not to betrayClara, little thinking the while that the time would come when, upon amuch more serious occasion, I should be dependent upon her generosity.But it really did seem too bad of the tiresome thing, who was holdingdown her head, and thoroughly enjoying the whole scene; and no doubt itwas excellent fun for her, but it was very hard upon poor me.
"Leave the room, Miss Bozerne, and retire to your dormitory," exclaimedMrs Blunt at last, in a very awful tone of voice, and putting on everyscrap of dignity she could command.
I felt just as if I should have liked to have said "I won't;" but Icontrolled myself, and, making a sweeping curtsey, I went out, feelingvery spiteful. And then, when I was upstairs and had received myhundred-line French imposition, I commenced work by writing a crossletter to mamma, and telling her that I would not stay in the nastyschool any longer; and declaring that if she did not come soon and fetchme, I should run away.
But though it was a very smartly-written, satirical letter, I tore it upafterwards; for something seemed to whisper to me that--that--well,that--But if those who have read so far into my confessions will havepatience, and quietly keep on reading leaf after leaf, trying the whileto sympathise with me, no doubt they will form a judgment for themselvesof the reason which prevented me from s
ending the letter to mamma, andmade me try to put up with the miseries of that select establishment foryoung ladies--the Cedars, Allsham.
CHAPTER SIX.
MEMORY THE SIXTH--GERMS THAT BUD.
One long, weary, dreadful drag, but somehow or another time slippedaway; though I shudder now when I recall that during that lapse of timeI was growing more and more wicked every day; and matters were slowlyprogressing towards the dire hour when my happiness was wrecked forever--buoyant bark though it was--upon the shoals and quicksandssurrounding the fair land of love and joy.
It would, perhaps, look particular, or I would repeat that last musicalsentence, which seems to describe so aptly my feelings. But to resume.One could not help liking French lessons when one had such a teacher;and, oh, how I used to work to get my exercises perfect! Clara began tolaugh and tease, but then I could fight her with her own
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