Beryl's mental culture was far behind her physical, and she was little less ignorant than the fishermen's children who played on the beach. Her aunt was supposed to be responsible for Beryl's education; but Miss Cecilia Hollys was far too indolent to impose upon herself the trouble of teaching Beryl. Beyond an occasional music lesson, and frequent reprimands on the score of her ignorance, with tiresome injunctions as to ladylike behaviour, she left the culture of Beryl's mind to her nurse, who, having taught her to read after a fashion, to write an ugly scrawling hand, and to do sums of the simplest description, could give no further instruction to her charge.
Beryl was in no wise distressed by the poverty of her mental requirements. She was blissfully unconscious of the fact that for a gentleman's daughter she was disgracefully ignorant. She could read the pretty, gaily-illustrated story books with which her father kept her well supplied, and she felt no need of any further learning. Beryl was disposed to be well satisfied with herself. She had an agreeable sense of superiority and dignity as she went about amongst the fisher-folk of Egloshayle, who regarded her with as much admiration and deference as if she had been a little princess. Sometimes, when the young lady was more than usually perverse and wilful, her aunt would threaten to send her to school, but this threat never disturbed Beryl's equanimity, since she felt certain that her father would not consent to an arrangement to which she herself felt so strong an objection.
Beryl was on her way to her Aunt Cecilia as she flitted down the staircase, sniffing, with pleasant anticipations, the savoury odours which escaped from the kitchen regions. She was not particularly fond of her aunt's company, for the affection existing between them was of the coolest description; but in her present mood of excitement Beryl felt restless and impatient, and a little talk with her aunt might help to pass away the time.
Beryl entered the drawing-room, a long, low room with a painted ceiling, and a bow-window, which commanded a fine sea-view. The room felt warm, even to closeness, for a large fire of logs burned in the grate, and suffused through the apartment the fragrance of burning wood. Beryl could not see the fire as she came in, for a large black and gold screen completely hid the hearthrug. Going round to the other side of the screen, Beryl saw her aunt, comfortably stretched on a sofa, with a novel in her hand, in which she seemed greatly interested. A fat little dog was lying on the rug at Miss Cecilia's feet, and it moved languidly and gave a feeble whine as Beryl approached. Beryl took no notice of the little animal, for, though fond of most dogs, she could feel nothing but contempt for this stupid, useless poodle. Lion, the great mastiff chained in the yard, from whose approach Aunt Cecilia would have shrunk away in terror, was, in Beryl's opinion, far more suitable for a pet and plaything.
Miss Hollys had long ceased to be young, but she was dressed with as much care and attention to fashion as in the days of her early youth, though the youthful style of her apparel only heightened in cruel contrast the worn and faded look of her face. Her thin, pinched features had an expression of peevish discontent, and she appeared as unsympathetic a companion as a child could have. She started and shivered as Beryl bounded across the room.
"Oh, Beryl, if only you could learn to enter a room quietly!" she said, in a weak, fretful tone. "And you have left the door open; I know you have by the dreadful draught."
"Really, Aunt Cecilia, I should think a little draught would do you good," observed Beryl coolly; "this room feels like an oven."
"You forget that I am not like you, child, as strong as a horse. The least current of air gives me cold. Do, for goodness' sake, shut that door."
Beryl did as she was told, and then came back to the fireplace. Tea-things were standing on a little table beside her aunt's couch, for Miss Hollys had just been fortifying herself with her afternoon cup of tea.
"May I have a cup of tea, aunt?" asked Beryl, as she laid hands upon the teapot.