"Nobody has told you how I have been insulted?""No,indeed!Oh,Miss Brown,who could insult you?"In a man,the sense of injury does sometimes submit to the discipline of silence.In a woman--never.Suddenly reminded of her past wrongs (by the pardonable error of a polite schoolfellow),Emily committed the startling inconsistency of appealing to the sympathies of Francine!
"Would you believe it?I have been forbidden to recite--I,the head girl of the school.Oh,not to-day!It happened a month ago--when we were all in consultation,making our arrangements.
Miss Ladd asked me if I had decided on a piece to recite.I said,'I have not only decided,I have learned the piece.''And what may it be?''The dagger-scene in Macbeth.'There was a howl--Ican call it by no other name--a howl of indignation.A man's soliloquy,and,worse still,a murdering man's soliloquy,recited by one of Miss Ladd's young ladies,before an audience of parents and guardians!That was the tone they took with me.I was as firm as a rock.The dagger-scene or nothing.The result is--nothing!
An insult to Shakespeare,and an insult to Me.I felt it--I feel it still.I was prepared for any sacrifice in the cause of the drama.If Miss Ladd had met me in a proper spirit,do you know what I would have done?I would have played Macbeth in costume.
Just hear me,and judge for yourself.I begin with a dreadful vacancy in my eyes,and a hollow moaning in my voice:'Is this a dagger that I see before me--?'"Reciting with her face toward the trees,Emily started,dropped the character of Macbeth,and instantly became herself again:
herself,with a rising color and an angry brightening of the eyes."Excuse me,I can't trust my memory:I must get the play."With that abrupt apology,she walked away rapidly in the direction of the house.
In some surprise,Francine turned,and looked at the trees.She discovered--in full retreat,on his side--the eccentric drawing-master,Alban Morris.
Did he,too,admire the dagger-scene?And was he modestly desirous of hearing it recited,without showing himself?In that case,why should Emily (whose besetting weakness was certainly not want of confidence in her own resources)leave the garden the moment she caught sight of him?Francine consulted her instincts.
She had just arrived at a conclusion which expressed itself outwardly by a malicious smile,when gentle Cecilia appeared on the lawn--a lovable object in a broad straw hat and a white dress,with a nosegay in her bosom--smiling,and fanning herself.
"It's so hot in the schoolroom,"she said,"and some of the girls,poor things,are so ill-tempered at rehearsal--I have made my escape.I hope you got your breakfast,Miss de Sor.What have you been doing here,all by yourself?""I have been making an interesting discovery,"Francine replied.
"An interesting discovery in our garden?What canit be?""The drawing-master,my dear,is in love with Emily.Perhaps she doesn't care about him.Or,perhaps,I have been an innocent obstacle in the way of an appointment between them."Cecilia had breakfasted to her heart's content on her favorite dish--buttered eggs.She was in such good spirits that she was inclined to be coquettish,even when there was no man present to fascinate."We are not allowed to talk about love in this school,"she said--and hid her face behind her fan."Besides,if it came to Miss Ladd's ears,poor Mr.Morris might lose his situation.""But isn't it true?"asked Francine.
"It may be true,my dear;but nobody knows.Emily hasn't breathed a word about it to any of us.And Mr.Morris keeps his own secret.Now and then we catch him looking at her--and we draw our own conclusions.""Did you meet Emily on your way here?"
"Yes,and she passed without speaking to me.""Thinking perhaps of Mr.Morris."
