Читать книгу The Silver Lining - John Roussel - Страница 5

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The Boarding-School.

r. Rougeant had returned early from "the town" on that Saturday afternoon. He was now perusing the Gazette Officielle, the only newspaper which he ever cast his eyes upon. The servant—a good old Guernsey soul, who had been in the service of the family for ten years—was busily engaged in preparing the dinner. Contrary to the farmer's orders, Adèle had been sent by Lizette (the servant) to fetch the cider.

Unluckily for the little girl, Mr. Rougeant did not care to go to the expense of buying a tap. In its stead he had a number of small holes bored in one end of the cask. In these holes, which were placed vertically, one above the other, tight fitting wooden pegs had been driven. One of these pegs he drew out when he required some cider.

When Adèle entered the cellar, mug in hand, she examined the cask. She did not know which peg to take out, neither did she care to return into the kitchen with an empty vessel. She ventured cautiously to pull out one of the pins. It fitted tightly. She jerked on it. The peg came out; so did the cider. She hastily replaced the peg in its place, but the cider spurted all over her clean white pinafore. Timidly, she went back to the kitchen.

"I did not know how to——"

She did not finish. The servant perceived her plight, and, with a gesture, silenced her. She bustled her out into the vestibule, threw her a clean apron, bade her put it on, and proceeded to the cellar. She speedily caused—or thought she caused—all traces of the little girl's blunder to disappear.

When she returned, Mr. Rougeant was talking to his daughter. He was saying: "Listen, Adèle. Miss Euston's collegiate school for ladies will re-open on Tuesday next, September the 13th, at half-past two o'clock. A few boarders received."

"How would you like to go there?" he asked of his daughter; merely for form's sake, however, for he had already resolved that this would be, if possible, Adèle's future home, for some ten years at least.

"I don't know," said the little girl, placing her thumb in her mouth;—a sure sign of mingled deep-thought and puzzlement—a mode of expression which, by the bye, she was not to enjoy much longer. These gesticulations are not in harmony with boarding-school etiquette.

Her father did not make any other remark. He placed the newspaper on one side, and fell to work with his dinner.

This important piece of business having been accomplished, he started to go to town on foot.

His interview with Miss Euston resulted in Adèle being accepted as a boarder. She was to be entirely entrusted to the care of Miss Euston, and, lastly, Mr. Rougeant was to pay an annual stipend of fifty guineas.

When he came back home, Adèle's father sank in a chair. He was tired. Moreover, he was annoyed. The fifty guineas which he had promised to pay each year vexed him.

He said to himself: "This daughter of mine will run away with all the profit which I am making out of my newly-opened quarry. But, since it must be, I cannot allow myself to violate the promises made to the dying. I must try and see if I cannot save a little more than I have done lately. This servant costs me too much. I must get rid of her somehow. Another one, a French one for example, would work for four or five pounds less a year."

In this puzzled state he descended to the cellar. He had an implicit belief in cider as a general restorative. His scrutinizing glance soon detected the ravages caused by Adèle's blunder. "What a fine excuse," he mumbled—and he grinned.

He entered the parlour where Lizette was setting things to rights and demanded in an imperative and angry tone: "Who has done that mess in the cellar?"

"I did," quietly answered the servant, anxious to shield Adèle.

That fib she soon repented to have uttered.

"I give you a month's notice," said Mr. Rougeant, and he was about to disappear when Lizette, feeling that she was not required any more, and moved to the quick, turned towards her master.

"I can go now," she said.

"Well, go; so much the better."

That same evening, Maît. Jacques (Mr. Rougeant's workman) drove Lizette in the "spring cart" to her mother's cottage.

Adèle wept. Her father silenced her with a frown. "You will commence school on Tuesday next," he said.

The little girl looked at her father in surprise, and, an inward emotion completely mastering her, she recommenced crying.

"How shall I be able to speak to those English people?" she sobbed.

"You can talk English, can't you?" was her father's not over-consoling remark.

"Only—a—little."

"The person to whom I spoke is a nice lady; now, don't be silly, child."

"The little girls will laugh at me," she said, drying her tears with her pinafore.

Her father did not answer her, but sat meditatively pulling on his enormous nose.

It was nearly midnight when Adèle managed to drop to sleep.

Tuesday came. Her father drove her to town in his old phaeton. Then, taking her by the hand, he led her at No. ——, Grange. The two were ushered into a small, but prettily furnished drawing-room.

After a few moments, Mdlle. Parmier entered the room, and after having conversed in French for a few minutes with Mr. Rougeant, the latter withdrew, bidding good-bye to his daughter who watched him disappear with a dazed and stupefied air. "Is this a dream?" she thought. "Ah! would that it were." Never before had she spoken to a lady from town. She listened to hear Mdlle. Parmier's harsh voice bid her follow her, but, instead of doing so, the little French lady advanced towards her and in a gentle tone of voice (so soft, that Adèle stared at her in astonishment) said: "Miss Euston va bientôt venir. Croyez-vous, ma chère, que cette nouvelle demeure vous conviendra?"

"Oui," answered Adèle, greatly relieved that there was at least one person here who could talk in French.

Then, while the lady occupied herself with a book, Adèle was busy picturing to herself the dreadful Miss Euston. Her father had said that she was a nice lady; but, alas, how could she? Did she not speak in English? How was she going to answer her? "She will certainly laugh at my bad English," Adèle thought; and her lips moved about uneasily, and her eyes were moist.

She looked towards Mdlle. Parmier. She saw four or five ladies in a confused group; she wiped away the tears that obscured her vision.

"Ah! if this lady were head mistress?" she went on thinking. "Oh! my clothes, they are not so pretty as those which the little girls who were in the playground wore." She listened tremblingly for the sounds of approaching footsteps. How she wished that the ordeal of the first interview would be passed. She grew so excited that she would have given anything to be out of that room. Any sudden catastrophe which would have averted the terrible ordeal of confronting Miss Euston would have been welcomed by her. Had she been alone, she would have tried her voice to see how it sounded in English, but Mdlle. Parmier was there; so she only coughed a little to clear her throat. She tried to cough softly, as she had heard Mdlle. Parmier do; but she fancied her voice sounded hoarse and vulgar. She cast a gaze towards a mirror placed at one end of the room. What a plebeian figure!

Hark! what was that? a soft tread was heard approaching. The French lady looked up from her book, and fixing her eyes encouragingly on the little girl, she said: "Miss Euston sera bien aise de vous voir; parlez-vous l'anglais?"

"Un peu, mademoiselle," said Adèle, and the door opened.

The dreaded form of Miss Euston entered the room.

"Dis is de yong Ma'm'sel Rougeant," said the French lady, introducing Adèle to the newly-arrived lady.

The latter, a tall, refined and amiable lady, advanced towards Adèle with a pleasant air, and such a kind smile lighting up her intelligent features that the little girl felt immediately drawn towards her.

Miss Euston at once saw that Adèle was timid and feeling very uncomfortable.

She took the child's hand in her own and said kindly: "I am very glad you have come, Adèle; but, your hands are quite cold; come nearer to the fire."

Adèle stood up. Miss Euston put the chair nearer to the fire, placed the child upon it, and began to chat in quite a friendly way.

Mdlle. Parmier retired. Adèle's fears had vanished like a cloud of smoke. She felt more than simple admiration for Miss Euston; she experienced a kind of veneration for her.

Had an angel from heaven entered the room instead of this lady, Adèle would not have been much more dazzled than she now was.

"Do you understand English?" inquired Miss Euston while helping her pupil to warm her hands.

"Not much, ma'am."

"Then you shall soon learn, for I can see a pair of intelligent eyes beaming under those chestnut curls."

Adèle smiled. She felt a kind of bitter and sweet happiness. The dreaded introduction was over, but now there were the little girls to encounter. What kind of reception would they give her?

"I am going to have two new dresses for you to try on presently," said Miss Euston; "now, come, let me show you your bed chamber."

Adèle was delighted with her bedroom. How neat the little crib looked. Miss Rader had told her that the people from town never had white linen; they knew not how to wash, and, besides, the smoke caused their once white linen to look grimy.

After having asked Adèle if she was pleased with her room, and the little child having answered: "Yes, ma'am, very much," Miss Euston led her into the schoolroom where about twenty young girls were assembled. They were being directed to their respective places by Mdlle. Parmier.

Miss Euston told Adèle that she would not do anything that day but familiarize herself with her new surroundings.

She gave her a nice book full of beautiful pictures to look at. Then she began to attend to a class of the bigger girls.

Adèle felt her heart sink a little when Miss Euston left her, but she managed to pluck up courage and was soon absorbed looking at the beautiful pictures in her book. She timidly raised her eyes from time to time and gazed upon the young group of girls who were near her. Two of them she perceived were looking at her, and exchanging glances, after which they tittered.

This made Adèle's blood rush to her face. She knew they were laughing at her and she felt uneasy. "I am as good as they are. Just let them wait till I have my new dresses," she thought.

She made up her mind not to look at them and kept steadily looking at her book. But the pictures had lost their charm. Her little soul revolted against the treatment to which she was being subjected by these two little girls.

When the time for recreation arrived, Miss Euston took Adèle by the hand and led her up to two other girls; one about Adèle's age, the other two years older. She told them to take care of their new and future companion. She was sure, she added, that they would make things pleasant for her. "Yes, ma'am—come," they said to their new acquaintance. They led her out of the schoolroom and amused her during the whole time that was set apart for recreation purposes. By the time the bell rang for the pupils to form classes, the three little girls were as friendly as could be. Adèle forgot all about the little girls that had laughed at her.

Later on in the evening, she discovered that her two little companions were the only boarders beside herself.

The day after her entrance, an event occurred which deserves perhaps to be narrated.

Adèle walked alone down the Grange, turned to the right, and not knowing where she was going, found herself in a lane called George Street.

She was busily engaged contemplating a poor little crippled girl, when the latter's crutch slipped and she fell prone on the road.

She got up quickly, however, seized her crutch and looked anxiously round to see if someone had perceived her.

Adèle stood near, smiling.

The girl in rags went up to her. "What'r'yer laughin' at, yer dressed up doll?" she said. (Adèle had one of her new dresses on.) "If you don't stop it," she continued threateningly, "I'll give yer such a bloomin' smack as 'l' make you think you're in the beginnin' o' next week."

Adèle did "stop it," and hastily walked away.

"What!" she said to herself, "can these little girls from town beat you soundly enough to make you think you are in the beginning of the week to come? They must be clever. I will ask Miss Euston about it."