“I was permitted to remain up an hour longer, as it was only seven o’clock; my head still felt heavy, and objects seemed to swim before my eyes; in the background of the room, the nurse, in her austere dress of black, stood by the side of one of the patients, pouring some drops of liquid into a spoon, while the faithful mulatto, seated in a chair at the bedhead, watched the uneasy slumber of her beautiful mistress; Miss Jones walked quietly backward and forward. As I grew older, and became more capable of observation and reflection, I often wondered how those poor teachers managed to support life, dragging on from days to months, from months to years, their monotonous, stupid existence: no prospect of brighter days dawning on the future, nothing but a continual repetition of school duties, repeated to an infinitude of times; habit, however, becomes second nature, and constant occupation frequently prevents us from dwelling with too much sensitiveness on personal misfortunes.
“After taking the medicine, a gentle, soothing influence came over me, and I dropped asleep in my chair. I awoke during the night, I was still in the same position. Miss Jones had left the room, and the nurse slumbered with her head leaning on a table; I felt benumbed from my erect attitude, but sleep again overpowered me, and daylight found me locked in the arms of Morpheus. I don’t remember what happened afterward; for nine days I lay deliriously tossing on a sick bed, with an attack of fever; at the end of that time I began slowly to recover. Inez and Blanche, my beloved little friends, spent every moment they could snatch from their studies by my side, telling me stories to amuse me, and exercising their ingenuity in a thousand artless ways, to beguile away the tedious hours of convalescence. Madame Deville and Monsieur Belmont, during my illness, had often visited my bedside; they said he had been apprehensive lest my disease should prove mortal. Madame, in her bustling, active way, came every day to the infirmary, encouraged the sick ones, ordered what she thought proper for them, and then bustled away again; there was no difference in her manner toward either rich or poor girls: all were treated alike. I loved her for that trait of character; she only showed perhaps, a slight partiality in favor of those who made the most rapid progress in their studies. This induced the pupils to emulate each other in improvement, that they might deserve the approbation of their directress. When I was sufficiently recovered to observe what was passing around me, I looked for Miss Clarendon, but she was no longer in the room; Inez told me she was a parlor boarder, and had gone to Madame Deville’s private parlor, where she took private lessons, and amused herself as she chose; she spoke of her sweet disposition, and various accomplishments, and said that she was generally beloved by all who knew her in the school.
“It was a week after the fever had left me, before I was able to return to the school-room; when I did so, Madame Schiller, and several of my new acquaintances greeted me as if I had been an old friend; after that I applied myself with energy and perseverance, and my improvement was rapid. At the expiration of three months, Monsieur Belmont began instructing me in vocal music; time, and intense assiduity at practising, slowly developed my voice; he was a kind, but a severe and exacting master; he obliged us to perform our allotted tasks, with punctuality and exactness; if we did them well, he praised us quietly, but even slight commendation from his lips was very gratifying.
“The musical soiree had occurred during my illness. Inez and Blanche, I was told, had sung charmingly. Poor little girls! the momentary praise bestowed at a school exhibition, but poorly repaid them for the many hours of labor spent in acquiring those bird-like tones. Several months elapsed before I was sufficiently advanced in music, to be able to sing at one of Madame’s ‘evenings.’
“One morning I was directing my steps toward the music room, to practise my lesson, when I saw Miss Clarendon come running down the gallery, and with a wild, passionate expression of joy and surprise, threw herself into the out-spread arms of a grave, elegant looking man, who stood quietly awaiting her approach.
“‘Oh my dear father!’ she wildly exclaimed, as she impressed kiss after kiss on his lips and forehead, ‘you have come at last to see your poor sick child: I had expected to die without ever seeing you again.’
“‘You had expected to die! my darling child, what do you mean? I have only this morning arrived from Greece: I have come to take you home to England. Why do you speak in this sad way? Have you not been happy here?’
“‘I have been ill for several months,’ she sadly replied; ‘the doctor says I have consumption; I have been so unhappy, too, away from you. How happy I feel to be with you again, dear father!’
“The gentleman fondly stroked his daughters silky hair, and gazed with paternal fondness upon that grief-worn, delicate countenance. She now seemed happy and at rest, by the side of that parent, for whose presence she had longed so earnestly; the surprise and pleasure of this re-union, had lit up her face with an expression of feverish joy almost unearthly. I remained a moment at the door of my cabinet and looked at them.
“‘You are really going to take me away from here, are you not, dear father? we shall return to dear old England.’