though, from Clara, that Achille had made quite aconfidante of the Signor, and that they were both planning together forus to have a long meeting.
"But how do you get to know all this?" I said.
"Do you suppose, miss, that no one else but you can manage to pass andreceive notes so cleverly?" she replied.
I could not make any answer, for somehow or another Clara generallymanaged to get the better of me.
What would I not have given to have been alone for one five minutesbeneath the deep green shady trees, for it seemed ages since I had had aletter from Achille. But it was of no use to wish; and I'm sure that itwas quite three-quarters of an hour before Clara and I were up in ourbedroom together, trying to get rid of Patty Smith.
She was such a stupid girl, and the more you gave her hints to go themore she would persist in stopping, for she was as obstinate as she wasstupid; and I'm sure, if that's true about the metempsychosis, PattySmith, in time to come, will turn into a lady donkey, like those greyones that are led round Chester Square of a morning, and are owned byone of the purveyors of asses' milk. We tried all we could to get ridof her, but it was of no use; and at last, when we were ready to crywith vexation, and about to give it up and go down to dinner withoutreading our notes, some one called out--
"A letter for Miss Smith."
And then away ran the tiresome thing, and we were quite alone.
CHAPTER TEN.
MEMORY THE TENTH--THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE.
The first thing that Clara and I did was to tear up the brown paperwrappers into tiny little bits, all but where the directions werewritten, and those we chewed up quite small, to throw out of the windowwith the other pieces. And oh, how nasty brown paper is to chew!--alltarry and bitter, like cold sailors must be when they eat one another inthose dreadful boats that have not enough provisions, and when there's"water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink." Then I tore openthe tiny note, and Clara did the same; and I had just read two lines,when I _felt_ that I was watched, and looking up, there stood thathorrid Miss Furness, just like some basilisk, or gorgon, or cockatrice,or dreadful thing of that kind.
Of course Miss Furness couldn't have been a cockatrice, but we were sobadly taught at that wretched Mrs Blunt's, that I have not the mostremote idea what is the feminine of the extinct fabulous creature, andhenatrice sounds so horribly-absurd. Anyhow, she was a wretch--a nastydespicable, hateful, horrible wretch, whom it could not be a sin tohate.
"The bell has rung for dinner, young ladies," she said, with her eyesdevouring my note.
How I did tremble! but I knew that if I was not careful I should betraypoor Achille; while, fortunately, Clara had been sitting so that she wasnot visible from the door, and had time to slip her note into herpocket, while she pretended to have one of her boots off.
For a moment or two I was so scared that I did not know what to do. IfI tried to hide the note, I knew that she would suspect that there wassomething wrong, while she would have been well aware whether there wasa letter for me from home, since she always had the opening of the bag.What could I do? For a moment, I was about to crumple the paper up inmy hand; but fortunately I restrained myself, and holding the paperboldly in my hand, I pretended that I had been writing out the aliquotparts of a shilling; and, as I doubled the note up slowly, I went onsaying,--
"Coming directly, ma'am--one farthing is one forty-eighth; one halfpennyis one twenty-some-thingth--oh, fourth. Oh, dear! oh, dear! how hard itis, to be sure."
"You seem to have grown very industrious, Miss Bozerne," said MissFurness, looking very doubtfully at the paper; and I was afraid that shewould smell it, for it was quite strong of that same scent that Achillealways used.
"Yes, isn't she?" said Clara, coming to the rescue; "but I do not thinkit will last, ma'am."
I could have hugged her for that; for I knew that the tiresome old thingsuspected something to be wrong, and was mixing it up with the morning'sadventure. But nothing more was said, and we descended to dinner, andthere I was with that note burning in my pocket, and not a chance couldI get to read it; for so sure as I tried to be alone, go where I would,there was that Miss Furness's favourite, Celia Blang, after me to seewhat I was doing.
At last, during the afternoon lessons, I could bear it no longer; so Iwent and sat down by the side of Clara.
"What does he say, dear?" I whispered.
"Wants me to meet him to-night," she wrote on her slate, and rubbed itout directly. For we actually used common slates--noughts-and-crossesslates--just like charity-school children. But I had my revenge, for Idropped and cracked no less than ten of the nasty things, though I amafraid papa had to pay.
And then again she wrote, "What does he say, dear?"
"I have not had a chance to see yet," I dolefully replied. "There's theraging Furnace watching me, so pray don't look up. She suspectssomething, and I can't move without being spied."
"Poor old darling!" wrote Clara on her slate.
"I'm going to trust you, my dear," I said. "When I push my Nugent'sDictionary over to you, take it quietly, for my note will be inside.And I want you to take it, and go away somewhere and read it, and thencome and tell me what he says; for the old thing is so suspicious, andkeeps looking in my direction--and I dare not attempt it myself."
So I managed to pass the note to Clara, who left the room; and then Iwrote down the aliquot parts of a pound, and folded it ready so as topull out next time. I saw Miss Furness watching me; and there I sat,with my cheeks burning, and wondering what was in my note, and whether,after all, I had done foolishly. For was Clara to be trusted?
"But she is so mixed up with it herself," I thought, "she dare not playme false."
So there I sat on and on, pretending to be studious, and wondering whatkept Clara so long, would have gone after her, only I knew that MissFurness was keeping an eye upon me; and sometimes I half thought thatshe must know something about the night when I went down to the elms;but directly after I felt that she did not, or she would have told myLady Blunt directly. But the fact of the matter was, she feltsuspicious about the note, and all because I was so clumsy in trying tothrow dust in her eyes.
Five minutes--ten minutes--a quarter of an hour had passed, and still noClara. Then another quarter of an hour, and still she did not come."Whatever shall I do?" I thought to myself--"surely she is notdeceiving me?" And then, just as my spirits were regularly boilingover, heated as they were by impatience and vexation, in she came, withthe note in her hand; and I saw her laugh maliciously, and cross over toPatty Smith.
"Oh," I said to myself, "I shall die of shame."
And I'm sure no one can tell what agony I suffered while the creaturewas reading something to Patty, when they both had a hearty laugh; afterwhich Clara began to double the note up, as, with eyes flashing fire, Isat watching that deceitful creature, not daring to move from my seat.
"Miss Fitzacre, bring me that piece of paper you have in your hand,"squeaked Miss Furness, who had been watching her like a cat does amouse.
Oh, if I could but have screamed out, or fainted, or seized the paper,and fled away! But I could not move, only sit suffering--sufferinghorribly, while Clara gave me another of her malicious smiles, as shecrossed sulkily over to Miss Griffin's table, drew the paper from herpocket, laid it down, and then our _chere_ institutrice laid apaper-weight upon it, for she had a soul far above curiosity, whileClara came and sat down by me--poor me, who trembled so with fear andrage that my teeth almost chattered; for I could think of nothing elsebut Mrs Blunt and the Furness reading poor Achille's note.
I did not know how to be angry enough with myself, for being so simpleas to trust Clara; and I'm sure I should not, only I fancied hertruthful and worthy; but now, I could have killed her--I could, I was soenraged.
"You horribly treacherous, deceitful thing!" I whispered; "when, too, Itrusted you so fully."
"Why, what is the matter?" she said, quite innocently.
"Don't look at me like that," I whispe
red. "How could you be so false?"
"Oh, that's what you mean, is it?" she said. "Serve you right for nottrusting me fully from the first, as I did you."
"Worthy of trust, are you not?" I said angrily.
"Will you be quite open with me for the future, then?" she said.
"Open!" I hissed back. "I'll go to Mrs Blunt, and tell everything, Iwill--everything; and won't spare myself a bit, so that you may bepunished, you wicked, good-for-nothing, bad-behaved, deceitful andtreacherous thing, you!"
"Take breath now, my darling," she said, tauntingly.
"Breath," I said--"I wish I had none. I wish I was dead, I do." And Icould not help a bit