“What beautiful English he writes,” said Harry.
I was interrupted where I last left off by the entrance of the three young Pevenseys, with their governess, Mademoiselle Foularde, whom I had supposed still at the sea-side. But it appears that an epidemic had broken out at Hardsand, which occasioned their immediate return to the Stone House. I was very glad to see them all; they seemed to bring sunshine into my shady little room; and I had a toy railway-engine for the amusement of my little friends, which delighted the two young ones exceedingly. Arabella, or, as they frightfully abbreviate her name, Arbell, has grown quite tall and womanly, for a girl of fourteen. She has her mother’s good profile, but is dark, like her father, and the expression of her face is rather stern and repelling. Mademoiselle was charming; but I do not think she and her eldest pupil go on comfortably together. Whenever I addressed a remark to Arbell, Mademoiselle answered it, and went on speaking so as to detain my attention; this occurred three times, and I could observe Arbell look annoyed. As for Flora and Rosaline, they had a regular boxing-match, when they thought I was not looking. I caught Rosaline’s hand in mine, with the little fist doubled up, and said, “Why, Rosaline! you quite surprise me! I did not know you were a pugilist!”
She opened her large blue eyes, as if amazed at my interference, and then seemed disposed to laugh; but I said quite gravely—“No, no, we have no fighting here. If it is allowed at the Stone House, I don’t allow it in my parlour.”
“It is not allowed at the Stone House, but they do it for all that!” burst forth Arbell, and then shut herself up again in rigid silence. Mademoiselle Foularde darted an indignant look at her, and then drew Flora towards her, fondling her, and saying—
“Ah, fi donc, Rosaline! Bonne petite Fleurette! comme je l’aime! I never saw her fight before, did I?”
“How can you say so!” muttered Arbell, and then sighed, and began to play with her little dog Shock.
After this, the conversation rather flagged; but I showed the little ones some prints I was meaning to paste into a nursery picture-book; and when I had quite won their good-will, kissed them, and said, “You won’t fight again, will you?” Both said “No” very cordially; and Mademoiselle and I exchanged looks and smiled, and then I said, “I am sure you remember that pretty verse:
“‘But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise;