of a sob coming.
"Poor Achille!" she whispered. "What would he do then?"
"Oh, don't talk to me--don't," I said, bending down my burning face overa book, not a word in which could I see.
"It did tease you, then, did it?" said Clara, laughing.
"Tease me, you heartless thing you," I said. "Hold your tongue, do!I'll never forgive you--never, Clara!"
"Less talking there," said Miss Furness--the Griffin.
"Ugh! you nasty old claw-puss," said Clara, in an undertone.
After a few minutes' silence, I began again. "I did not give you creditfor it, Clara," I said. "Thought you were not going to speak to me anymore," she said.
"Oh, it's too bad," I whispered; "but you will be sorry for it someday."
"No, I sha'n't, you little goose you. It was not your note at all," shesaid. "I only did it to tease you, and serve you out for trying todeceive me, who have always tried to be a friend to you from the veryfirst."
"Oh, my own, dear, darling Clara," I cried, in a whisper, "is this true?Then I'll never, never do anything without you again, and tell youeverything; and am not cross a bit."
"But I am," she cried; "see what names you have been calling me."
"Ah, but see how agonising it was, dear," I whispered. "Only think ofwhat you made me suffer. I declare I shall burst out into a fit ofhysterical crying directly."
"No, no, don't do that," said Clara. "Then make haste, and tell me whathe said, so as to change my thoughts."
"Guess," said Clara, sliding my own dear little note into my hand onceagain.
"Oh, pray, pray tell me," I whispered. "Don't, whatever you do, don'ttease me any more. I shall die if you do."
"No, don't," she said, mockingly, "for poor Achille's sake."
"I would not serve you so, Clara," I said, humbly, the tears the whilegathering in my eyes.
And then she began to tell me that the note was very long, and statedhow he had been interrupted by the policeman, and had not venturedsince; but that he and the Signor had arranged to come that night, andthey would be under the end of the conservatory at eleven, if we couldcontrive to meet them there.
"And of course we can," said Clara. "How they must have been plottingtogether!"
"But we never can manage it," I whispered, with a strange flutteringcoming over my heart.
"I can, I can," whispered Clara, squeezing my hand; "but be careful, forhere comes the Griffin, and she's as suspicious as can be."
We were supposed to be busy preparing lessons all this time; for thiswas one of the afternoons devoted to private study, two of which we hadevery week, instead of what Mrs Blunt called the vulgar institution ofhalf-holidays.
"If I have to speak again about this incessant talking, Miss Fitzacre,your conduct will be reported to the lady principal," said Miss Furness."And as for you, Miss Bozerne, be kind enough to take a seat in anotherpart of the room. There is a chair vacant by Miss Blang."
Miss Furness did not hear what Clara said in an undertone, or she wouldhave hurried off posthaste to make her report. But as she did not, shereturned to her seat, and soon after we were summoned to our tea--I meananti-nervous infusion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
MEMORY THE ELEVENTH--A CATASTROPHE.
I used to get quite vexed with the tiresome old place, even if it waspretty, and you could sit at your open window and hear the nightingalessinging; and even though some other bird had made me hear its singing,too, and found its way right to my poor heart. There was so muchtiresome formality and niggling; and if one spoke in a way not accordingto rule, there was a fine or imposition, or something of that kind. Wenever went to bed, we never got up--we retired to rest, and arose fromslumber; we were summoned to our lessons, dinner was always announced,we pursued or resumed our studies, we promenaded daily, or else tookrecreation in the garden; and did everything, in short, in such ahorrible, stiff, starchy way, that we all seemed to be in a constantstate of crackle; and every variation was looked upon as so muchrumpling, while I'm sure our _lady_ principal could not have been morevulgar if she had tried.
The meeting appointed in the last chapter was repeated again and againat the end of the conservatory; for we had only to slip down into thedrawing-room quietly, open the shutters, pass through the French windowin among the geraniums, draw the shutters after us or not, and thenraise one of the sash windows at the end, where we could stand and talk.For the gentlemen never once came in, for fear that their footstepsshould show upon the beautiful, clean, white stones. One meeting was somuch like another, that it is hardly worth while to describe them; whileno incident worthy of notice occurred until one night. And oh! how wellcan I recall everything in connection with that disastrous occasion!
We had been for a walk that evening, and I had been most terriblyscandalised by the encounter we had had with a policeman. We were justoutside the town, when all at once I felt my cheeks flush, as theyalways do now at the sight of a constable; for there was one comingalong the road in front, and something seemed to whisper that we had metbefore. It was misery and ruin to be recognised, and I set my teethhard, and tried not to see him; but do what I would, my eyes seemeddetermined to turn towards the wretch; and they did, too, just as wewere passing, and it was he--and the odious creature knew me directly,and pushed his tongue into his cheek in the most vulgar way imaginable.Clara saw it, and gave me a push with her elbow; but, fortunately, I donot think any one else saw the dreadful fellow.
We had to hurry back, too, for a storm came on, and the big drops wereplashing heavily upon our parasols before we reached the Cedars; whilejust as we were safely housed, the lightning flashed and the thunderrolled incessantly.
I was not afraid of the storm, for I was humming over the "Tempest ofthe Heart," and wondering whether it would be over soon enough to allowof our assignation being kept; while I grew quite nervous and fidgety asthe evening wore on. However, the rain ceased at last, and the thunderonly muttered in the distance, where the pale summer lightning wasglancing; and when at last we retired to our rooms, and looked out ofthe open window, the fresh scent which came up from the garden wasdelicious. The moon shone, but with a pale, misty, and sobered light;while the distant lightning, which played fitfully at intervals, seem tomake the scene quite sublime.
After sitting looking out for a while, we closed the windows with asigh, for we knew we should be reported to Mrs Blunt if our lights werenot out; and then, as we had often done before, we pretended to undress,listening all the while to the senseless prattle of Patty Smith, whichseemed to us quite childish and nonsensical.
"I wonder your mars," she said, "don't send you each a cake sometimes.It would be so nice if they did; and I always do give you a piece ofmine."
"There, don't talk so, pray, Patty," I said, after listening to herhungry chatter for ever so long.
"Pray be quiet, and I will give you a shilling to buy a cake."
"No, you won't," said Patty. "Yes, I will indeed," I said, "if you willbe a good girl, and go to sleep."
"Give it me now, then," said the stupid thing. And I did give her one,and if she did not actually take it, though I believe she was quite asold as Clara or I; but all the while so dreadfully childish, anyone,from her ways, would have taken her for nine or ten--that is, if theycould have shut their eyes to her size. However, at last she fellasleep, and we sat waiting for the trysting-hour, "Do you know," saidClara, in a whisper, "I begin to get tired of spoiling one's night'srest for the sake of meeting them. It was all very well at first, butit's only the same thing over and over again. I know all aboutbeautiful Italy now, and its lakes and vineyards, and the old tyrantAustrian days, and the Pope, and patriotism, and prisons, and all thatsort of thing; while he seems to like to talk about that more than aboutyou know what, and one can't help getting a little too much of itsometimes."
"Oh, for shame, Clara!" I said; "how can you talk so? It is not loyal.What would some one say if he knew?"
"I don't know, and I don't--"
>
"Oh, hush! you sha'n't say so," I exclaimed; "for you do care--you knowyou do."
And then I sat silent and thinking for some time; for it was as thoughsomething began to ask me whether I also was not a little tired ofhearing about "_ma patrie_" and "_la belle France_" and whether I likeda man any the better for being a patriot, and mixed up with plots forrestoring the Orleans family, and who made a vow to spit--_cracher_--onGambetta's grave.
I should not have thought anything of the kind if it had not been forthose words of
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