“O yes. It is a peculiar method that has been wonderfully successful abroad; and indeed I see that it is, by my own children, though I seldom go into the school-room. Great self-denial, is it not? But I would not interfere for the world.—O,”—seeing Melea waiting for an exposition of the system,—“she uses a black board and white chalk. We had the board made as soon as we came, and fixed up in the school-room,—and white chalk.—But I would not interfere for the world; and I assure you I am quite afraid of practising on her feelings in any way. She has such sensibility!”
Well, but,—the peculiarity of method. And Melea explained that she was particularly anxious to hear all that was going on in the department of education, as a boy was expected to arrive soon at her father’s,—a little lad of ten years old, from India, who would be placed partly under her charge, and might remain some years in their house.
Indeed! Well, Miss Egg questioned the children very much. So much, that Mr Cavendish and herself took particular care not to question them at all, both because they had quite enough of it from Miss Egg, and because the papa and mamma were afraid of interfering with the methods of the governess. And then, for what was not taught by questions, there was the black board and white chalk.—But, after all, the great thing was that the teacher should have sensibility, without which she could not gain the hearts of children, or understand their little feelings.
All was now very satisfactory. Melea had obtained the complete recipe of education:—questions, sensibility, and chalk.
Mr. Longe was by this time hoping that the Miss Berkeleys would offer to go away, that he might escort them home before any one else should arrive to usurp the office. Mortifying as it was to him to feel himself eclipsed by his curate, he was compelled to acknowledge in his own mind that he was so as often as Henry Craig was present, and that it was therefore politic to make such advances as he could during Henry’s absence. Mr. Longe’s non-residence was a great disadvantage to him. Living fifteen miles off, and doing duty in another church, he was out of the way of many little occasions of ingratiating himself, and could never be invested with that interest which Henry Craig inspired in a peculiar degree as a religious teacher and devotional guide. The only thing to be done was to visit Haleham and the Berkeleys as often as possible during Henry’s absence, to obtain the favour of Fanny’s father, and to show the lady herself that an accomplished clergyman, who could quote the sayings of various friends who moved in “the best society,” who knew the world a thousand times better than Henry Craig, and could appreciate herself as well as her little fortune, was not to be despised. He was at this moment longing to intimate to her what encouragement he had this very day received from her father, when, to his great disappointment, Mr. Berkeley and Mr. Cavendish came in together,—just in time to save Fanny’s call from appearing inordinately long.
“All over? All safe? How relieved we are to see you!” exclaimed the clergyman.
“Safe, my dear Sir? Yes. What would you have had us be afraid of?” said Mr. Berkeley, who, however, carried traces of recent agitation in his countenance and manner.
“Father!” said Melea, “you do not mean to say that nothing more has happened than you meet with from the paupers every week.”
“Only being nearly tossed in a blanket, my dear, that’s all. And Pye was all but kicked down stairs. But we have them safe now,—the young ladies and all. Ah! Melea; you have a good deal to learn yet about the spirit of your sex, my dear. The women beat the men hollow this morning.”
Mr. Cavendish observed that the glaziers would be busy for some days, the women within the workhouse having smashed every pane of every window within reach, while the out-door paupers were engaging the attention of magistrates, constables, and governor.