It was a handsome gable-ended building, Elizabethan enough to testify to the taste that had designed it, and with a deep porch, where Honor had advanced, under Lucilla’s guidance, so as to have a moment’s view of the whole scene before their arrival had disturbed it.
The children’s backs were towards the door, as they sat on their forms at work. Close to the oriel window, the only person facing the door, with a table in front of her, there sat, in a slightly reclining attitude, a figure such as all reports of the new race of schoolmistresses had hardly led Honor to imagine to be the bonâ fide mistress. Yet the dress was perfectly quiet, merely lilac cotton, with no ornament save the small bow of the same colour at the throat, and the hair was simply folded round the head, but it was magnificent raven hair; the head and neck were grandly made; the form finely proportioned, on a large scale; the face really beautiful, in a pale, dark, Italian style; the complexion of the clearest olive, but as she became aware of the presence of the visitors it became overspread with a lovely hue of red; while the eyelids revealed a superb pair of eyes, liquid depths of rich brown, soft and languid, and befitting the calm dignity with which she rose, curtseyed, and signed to her scholars to do the same; the deepening colour alone betraying any sense of being taken by surprise.
Lucilla danced up to her, chattering with her usual familiar, airy grace. ‘Well, Edna, how are you getting on? Have I brought a tremendous host to invade you? I wanted Miss Charlecote to see you, for she is a perfect connoisseur in schools.’
Edna’s blush grew more carnation, and the fingers shook so visibly with which she held the work, that Honora was provoked with Lucy for embarrassing the poor young thing by treating her as an exhibition, especially as the two young gentlemen were present, Robert with his back against the door-post in a state of resignation, Owen drawing Phœbe’s attention to the little ones whom he was puzzling with incomprehensible remarks and questions. Hoping to end the scene, Honor made a few commonplace inquiries as to the numbers and the habits of the school; but the mistress, though preserving her dignity of attitude, seemed hardly able to speak, and the curate replied for her.
‘I see,’ said Lucilla, ‘your eye keeps roaming to the mischief my naughty brother is doing among the fry down there.’
‘Oh, no! ma’am. I beg your pardon—’
‘Never mind, I’ll remove the whole concern in a moment, only we must have some singing first.’
‘Don’t, Lucy!’ whispered Honor, looking up from an inspection of some not first-rate needlework; ‘it is distressing her, and displays are contrary to all rules of discipline.’
‘Oh! but you must,’ cried Cilly. ‘You have not seen Wrapworth without. Come, Edna, my bonnie-bell,’ and she held out her hand in that semi-imperious, semi-caressing manner which very few had ever withstood.
‘One song,’ echoed Owen, turning towards the elder girls. ‘I know you’ll oblige me; eh, Fanny Blake?’