Scenes and Characters, or, Eighteen Months at Beechcroft

by Charlotte M. Yonge

‘Depend upon it, it will be you that will wish to stand still when I had rather be on the move,’ said the Marquis.

‘Then you had better leave me behind. I have no intention of being hurried over the world, and never having my own way,’ said Claude, trying to look surly.

‘I am sure I should not mind travelling twice over the world to see Cologne Cathedral, or the field of Waterloo,’ said Lily.

‘Let me only show him my route,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘Redgie, look in my greatcoat pocket in the hall for Murray’s Handbook, will you?’

‘Go and get it, Phyl,’ said Reginald, who was astride on the window-sill, peeling a stick.

Away darted Lord Rotherwood to fetch it himself, but Phyllis was before him; her merry laugh was heard, as he chased her round the hall to get possession of his book, throwing down two or three cloaks to intercept her path. Mr. Mohun took the opportunity of his absence to tell Claude that he need not refuse on the score of expense.

‘Thank you,’ was all Claude’s answer.

Lord Rotherwood returned, and after punishing the discourteous Reginald by raising him up by his ears, he proceeded to give a full description of the delights of his expedition, the girls joining heartily with him in declaring it as well arranged as possible, and bringing all their knowledge of German travels to bear upon it. Claude sometimes put in a word, but never as if he cared much about the matter, and he was not to be persuaded to give any decided answer as to whether he would accompany the Marquis.

The next morning at breakfast Lord Rotherwood returned to the charge, but Claude seemed even more inclined to refuse than the day before. Lilias could not divine what was the matter with him, and lingered long after her sisters had gone to school, to hear what answer he would make; and when Mr. Mohun looked at his watch, and asked her if she knew how late it was, she rose from the breakfast-table with a sigh, and thought while she was putting on her bonnet how much less agreeable the school had been since the schism in the parish. And besides, now that Faith and Esther, and one or two others of her best scholars, had gone away from school, there seemed to be no one of any intelligence or knowledge left in the class, except Marianne Weston, who knew too much for the others, and one or two clever inattentive little girls: Lily almost disliked teaching them.

Phyllis and Adeline were in Miss Weston’s class, and much did they delight in her teaching. There was a quiet earnestness in her manner which attracted her pupils, and fixed their attention, so as scarcely to allow the careless room for irreverence, while mere cleverness seemed almost to lose its advantage in learning what can only truly be entered into by those whose conduct agrees with their knowledge.