The Young Ladies.
“The Firlawns, Mayleyfield, educational establishment for the daughters of officers and gentlemen in the Indian civil service, conducted by the Misses Twettenham,” as it said in the old circulars, for none were ever issued now. Thirty years of the care of young people, committed to their charge by parents compelled to reside in the East, had placed the Misses Twettenham beyond the need of circular or other advertising advocate. For it was considered a stroke of good fortune by Indian and other officials if vacancies could be found at the Firlawns for their daughters; in fact the Misses Twettenham might have doubled their numbers and their prices too, but they were content to keep on in their old conservative way, enjoying the confidence of their patrons, and really acting the parts of mothers to the young ladies committed to their charge.
It was a difficult task as well as an onerous one, this care of girls from the ages of ten or twelve up to even twenty and one-and-twenty, especially when it is taken into consideration that, whatever the emergency, the parents would be in India, China, or the Eastern islands—one or two months’ distance by letter, sometimes more.
It was not often that there were troubles, though, at the Firlawns, for the Misses Twettenham’s was a kindly as well as rigid rule. Sickness of course there was from time to time. Sadder still, they had had deaths; but there were times when some young lady of more than ordinary volatility would try to assert herself and resent the bonds that the elderly sisters insisted upon tying round her and keeping her back.
There were occasionally handsome curates at Mayleyfield. There was a particularly good-looking young doctor’s assistant once in the town; and at times Squire Morden’s soldier and sailor sons would return home for a short stay, when a misguided pupil would form a most hopeless attachment, and even go so far as to receive a smuggled note.
Woe be to her if she did! It was sure to be discovered; and if such a course was persisted in the doom was certain. Transportation was the sentence. Word was sent to mamma and papa in India, China, or wherever they might be, and Miss Rebellious had to leave the school.
These were very, very rare cases, for there was scarcely a girl who did not look upon the elderly sisters as their best of friends; but such accidents had occurred, and there was trouble at the Firlawns now.
“Never,” said Miss Twettenham to her sisters twain—“never, my dear Julia—never, my dear Maria, in the whole course of my experience, have I met with so determined, so obstinate a girl!”
“She is very beautiful,” said Miss Julia.
“And it promises to be a fatal gift,” said Miss Maria.
“Yes,” said the eldest Miss Twettenham; “and if it were not for the letter we have received saying that Dr. Bolter was coming to fetch her away, I should certainly have been compelled to insist upon her being recalled.”
“I don’t think she means harm, dear Hannah,” said Miss Maria.
“No young lady brought up here could mean harm, Maria,” said Miss Twettenham, severely; “but to witness in her such a terrible display of—of—of—I really cannot find a word.”
“Coquetry,” suggested Miss Julia.
“Well, coquetry,” said Miss Twettenham, taking the word unwillingly, as if it were too bad to touch. “It is a terrible love of admiration!”
“What did she say, Hannah, when you spoke to her?”
“Laughed, my dear, in the most barefaced way, and said that it was all nonsense.”
“But that dreadful half-haughty, half-shy way in which she looked at him!” said Miss Maria.
“And she almost smiled,” said Miss Julia.
“Quite smiled!” said Miss Twettenham, severely. “I saw her smile at him; and then, when he lifted his hat, she raised her eyes and stared at him in a haughty, astonished way, as if she had never given him the slightest encouragement.”
“It is very shocking,” murmured Miss Maria.
“But I think she blushed a little,” remonstrated Miss Julia, as if to try and find some slight extenuating circumstance for the benefit of the most handsome pupil at the Firlawns.
“That I deny!” exclaimed Miss Twettenham. “It was only the reflection from the lining of her sunshade! I repeat it, sisters; I am very—very glad she is going away!”
“So am I,” said Miss Julia; “and yet I am sorry, for she is a very beautiful girl, and I am sure she is affectionate.”
“What is beauty without ballast, my dear Julia? or affection that goes floating about like a gossamer without a stay?” said Miss Twettenham severely, and her sisters sighed.
“I consider it most reprehensible. And now I think we will have her down.”
The three grey, elderly ladies seated themselves in three stiff-backed, uneasy chairs, wool-worked by former pupils; and as soon as they had settled themselves in severe attitudes, Miss Twettenham gave a long wool-worked bell-pull a decided tug.
The bell was answered by a quiet, elderly manservant in a neat livery.
“Send word to Fräulein Webling’s room that we wish to see Miss Perowne and Miss Stuart,” said Miss Twettenham; and after sitting in frigid silence for a few minutes, the two young ladies were ushered into the presence of the principals.
There was a marked contrast between the girls, one being tall, with a finely-shaped oval face, dark hair, and peculiarly lustrous eyes, fringed by long black lashes; the other decidedly petite, with the clear skin, blue-grey eyes, and fair hair suggestive of the North.
The dark girl was perfectly composed, and walked over the well-worn carpet with an easy, graceful carriage, and a look of languid indifference, far from being shared by her companion, whose cheeks were flushed as she darted an uneasy look at the three sisters in turn.
The young ladies evidently expected to be asked to take chairs, but the words were not forthcoming; and after advancing a few paces, they stopped short in the midst of a chilling silence, the three sisters sitting very upright with mittened hands crossed in a peculiar way about the region of the waist of their old-fashioned dresses.
The dark girl, after a languid glance round, gave her shapely shoulders a slight shrug before half closing her eyes, and gazing through the tall, blank window at a scaly araucaria upon the lawn.
At last Miss Twettenham spoke:
“Miss Stuart,” she began, in chilling tones and with great deliberation, “speaking for myself and sisters, I must say that I sadly regret that we are under the necessity of drawing you into the discussion that is about to take place.”
“But, at the same time, my dear,” continued Miss Julia, in precisely the same formal tone, “we wish to tell you that we exonerate you from all blame in the matter.”
“And,” concluded Miss Maria, “we are glad to say that your conduct since you have been under our care has been all that could be desired.”
The fair girl made a half step forward, her eyes filling with tears, and one hand was involuntarily raised, as if she would have liked to place it in that of the last speaker; but the three sisters drew themselves up a little more rigidly, and, as if in concert, drew in a long breath.
The dark girl smiled faintly and looked bored.
“It is an unpleasant thing for you to do, Miss Stuart, to have to bear witness against your schoolfellow and companion,” resumed Miss Twettenham, her sisters tightening their lips as if to rigidly keep in the indignation they felt, and to subdue their desire to interrupt their elder, who,