"Why, Miss Beryl! You here still?" she exclaimed in surprise. "How is that?"
"Yes, I'm here,"' replied Beryl, not very amiably, giving her feet a determined swing, meant to express supreme indifference. "I have a lesson to learn."
"Then you've been a naughty girl, I suppose," said Lucy, taking in the situation at once, and showing little regard for Beryl's feelings.
"I only took a book off Miss Burton's shelf," said Beryl, in an injured tone. "It was very horrid of her to make such a fuss about it. She's as cross as she can be."
"Oh, I dare say you think you did nothing wrong," remarked Lucy; "you always say that. But you won't be any the worse for a little punishment; I'm glad Miss Burton knows how to manage you."
"She doesn't then; she is a horrid, cross thing; I can't bear her!" exclaimed Beryl, uttering the first words which came to her lips, in the irritation excited by these words, which stung her pride sorely.
"There now, Miss Beryl; what did I tell you?" exclaimed Lucy triumphantly. "I said you would not be fond of your governess long. I knew your love was too hot to last."
With these words Lucy went away, leaving poor Beryl more completely under the dominion of the evil spirit of pride and self-will which had taken possession of her. But for her nurse's ill-chosen words, Beryl might soon have been humble and contrite, and the rest of the day might have passed more happily for her than it did. Now, however, all her worst feelings were stirred up anew. She did not care. She would do as she liked. She would not learn the lesson. She would show Miss Burton, and Lucy too, that she was not going to be "managed"; and, reckless of consequences, Beryl dashed her lesson book on the floor, and looked round for some pleasanter mode of passing the time.
Something drew her eyes to the bookshelf. They rested on the brightly-bound book which had led her into this trouble. Here was a grand opportunity of at once daring Miss Burton's anger and gratifying her own wishes.
Beryl gave herself no time for reflection. She flew across the room, climbed on a chair, reached the book, and sat down to read it. Her cheeks were flushed and her heart was beating fast as she opened it. She was feeling half proud of her spirited defiance, and half frightened at it. The story thus read had little charm. It was difficult, indeed, to keep her attention fixed upon it in her excited state of mind. Her own situation just now was more interesting to her than that of the heroine of the story.