The Manor School

by L. T. Meade

Presently a teacher entered, looking sleepy and somewhat depressed. She went through the roll-call. Susan Marsh came in at the last moment, just in time to save herself from a bad mark.

The girls then went into the wide, pleasant-looking refectory, where a wholesome breakfast was provided for them. After breakfast came prayers, and then the usual lessons of the day.

Christian felt all the time as though she were living in a dream. So occupied was her mind, and so absolutely miserable and bewildered did she feel, that for the first time since her appearance in the school she disappointed her teachers. There was a special professor who always came on Wednesdays to give the girls recitation and reading lessons. He was a very irascible person, and could not stand any inattention on the part of his pupils. To find a girl like Christian, so intelligent, so full of soul and true appreciation, was like honey and ambrosia to the poor professor. To hear her read, with her pure Saxon accent and her perfect pronunciation, soothed him, he was fond of saying, as though it were the sweetest music.

He desired her to stand up now and read one of the most celebrated and magnificent passages from Milton's Paradise Lost. She had left off at a certain stanza at the previous lesson, and he desired her to proceed from the line she had last read. Christian took her accustomed place.

Now, it so happened that Miss Peacock herself came into the classroom on this occasion. Mr. Penrose had described to Miss Peacock how splendidly Christian Mitford read, how in all respects she was unlike the ordinary schoolgirl of her age. He was so enthusiastic about her that Miss Peacock decided to hear the young girl herself.

"You must not spoil her by too much praise," she had said to the professor. "I am much interested in Christian Mitford, and will do all in my power for her, but I have to think of more than just the making of a brilliant elocutionist."

"But she will be far better than that," said the professor. "I am convinced she has a beautiful soul. The girl is a sort of genius, although all is more or less in embryo at present."

Now, just as Christian stood up with the open book in her hand and most eyes were fixed on her, the door opened at the farther end of the room and Miss Peacock came slowly forward. Star, who was in the same class, raised her bright eyes and fixed them first on Miss Peacock and then on Christian.

Christian had been looking pale—pale as death—but now a warm wave of color passed over her young cheeks and mounted to her smooth brow. She looked up at Miss Peacock, and even that lady, accustomed as she was to all phases of girl character, was startled at the anguish in Christian's gaze.

"Begin, Miss Mitford," said the professor—"begin." He stamped his foot with some impatience. He murmured a word or two of the opening lines, and Christian read.