poorAchille and I had together. It was enough to make me ever so fond anddevoted; and though I might be trembling a little in my allegiance atone time, I was ready to become a martyr now for his sake. But, as Isaid before, the very fact of an assignation being made was the signalfor, or precursor of, something to happen; so that, I'm sure, I wasquite in a tremble, a few days after Miss Furness's faint, when Achillegave me a few lines inside De Porquet, telling me, in a few simplewords, that he was again that night about to try his fortune, when hehoped I should be able to assist him to benefit the poor exiles, whowere now in a great state of distress. No one, to have found that scrapof paper, would have imagined that it was anything more than a piecetorn off to act as book-mark, and he gave me the book with it standingright out, so that Miss Furness could see it quite plainly as he passedit right under her nose, saying--
"I have put a piece of paper where you shall go on, Miss Bozerne."
When I looked at it there was only hastily scrawled--
"Mercredi, une heure," and "the poor suffer want--les pauvres ontbesoin."
That was all, and it really seemed to be a bit of exercise, and nothingelse. But then, I had the key in my heart, and could read it as hemeant; though truly it was an exercise for me to find means to overtopall difficulties and meet him. I knew what he meant well enough--justas well as if he had written four pages, crossed, in his own niggling,little, scrimply, unintelligible, Frenchy hand. So I sat thinking ofthe six box cords tied together and hidden away in the bottom drawer,underneath my green silk, and tightly locked up to keep them from pryingeyes.
Well, of course, I told Clara--though I may as well own that I reallyshould not if I could have helped it. For she was anything but what Ishould have liked; and, of course, I did not care to be so teased. Andthere was my appetite so spoiled again that I could not eat, and poor mein such a fidget for the rest of the day, that I did not know what todo. I slipped upstairs three times to see if the cord was all right,and the knots tightly tied; and then, the last time, if I did not hearMiss Furness calling me, and come down in a flurry and leave the key inthe drawer. I turned quite hot all over when I felt for it in mypocket, and was sure I had lost it somewhere; when if I could not getsome more cord I should be stopped again. All at once I remembered thatthe thing must be stuck in the keyhole. So, as soon as the lesson withMiss Furness was over, I slipped to the back staircase, and was abouthalfway up, when I must meet that tiresome, fat, old Fraulein.
"Vots for you heere, Mees Bozerne?" croaked the tiresome old Englishkiller. "Young ladies 'ave no beesness upstaer in de afternoon. Go youdown."
Of course I had to go down again, for I was breaking rules, and ought tohave been at work at private study in the schoolroom till half an hourbefore tea-time.
"It's too bad," I muttered, as I began to descend--"too bad to send meto a place like this, where one may not even go up to one's bedroom.I'm sure, I don't feel in the least bit like a school-girl."
Just then I heard Miss Sloman calling the Fraulein to "Come here, dear!"They always called one another, "my love," and "dear," in private,though I'm sure no one could have been more unamiable, or looked moreready to scratch and call names. So the Fraulein again ordered me to godown, and then turned back, evidently to go to Miss Sloman: so, seizingthe opportunity, I slipped down into the hall, and began bounding up thefront stairs like lightning, when if I did not literally run up againstMrs Blunt, and strike her right in the chest with my head, just as shehad come out of her room--for I was not looking, but, with head down,bounding up two stairs at a time.
It was a crash! Poor woman, she could not get breath to speak for sometime. But, there, she was not the only one hurt; for that horribletwisted vulcanite coronet was driven right into my poor head, and painedme terribly.
"Ach ten!" cried the Fraulein, who had heard the crash and exclamationon both sides, and now came waddling up; "I told you go down, ten, MissBozerne, and you come up to knock de lady principal."
So I was, without a word to say in defence, sent down in the mostdreadful disgrace. But there was some fun in it, after all; for Claravowed that the poor woman received such a shock that two of her bones--stay bones--were broken, and she nearly swallowed her teeth. But thatClara always would exaggerate so dreadfully; and, of course, that wasnot true.
I was not going to be threatened with medicine this time because myappetite was bad, so I kept one slice of bread and butter upon my plateto bite at, though it was almost enough to choke me; and then I managedto draw two more slices over the edge of my plate into my lap, where mypocket-handkerchief was spread all ready; and then I wrapped them up,when I thought that no one was looking, and put them in my pocket; andso tea was got over, and I thought what a long time it would be tillmidnight.
We were all standing in the middle of the classroom before getting ourbooks out for the evening studies, when if Patty Smith did not come upto me, and, without waiting to see whether I would or not, exclaimed--
"Lend me your handkerchief, Laura, dear--I won't keep it a moment!"
Seizing one end, which stuck out of my pocket, she gave it a snatch,when away it flew, and one piece of bread and butter was slung acrossthe room, and struck Miss Furness in the face; while the other went flopup against the window behind her, stuck upon the pane for a moment, andthen fell--leaving a buttery mark where it had been, as a matter ofcourse. I declare I never felt so much ashamed in my life; while therewere all the girls tittering and giggling, and Miss Furness wiping herface and scolding terribly about my dreadfully unladylike behaviour,though nothing could have been more humiliating than what followed, forI'm sure I wished there was not such a thing as a piece of bread andbutter upon the face of the earth; for said Miss Furness--
"And now, Miss Bozerne, come and pick up those pieces."
I would have given anything to have been able to refuse; but what couldI do? I do not see how I could have helped it, for I really feltobliged; and there I was kneeling down, humbled and penitent, to pick itup; and there were the tiresome, buttery pieces, all broken up intocrumbs here and crumbs there, all over the place.
"For your sake, Achille?" I murmured to myself; and that made me bearit until I had picked up all I could, and held the scraps upon a pieceof exercise paper, wondering what I had better do with them.
"You had better wipe the butter off that window with your handkerchief,Miss Bozerne," said Miss Furness, stiffly. "Oh! and it's of no use foryou to make up those indignant grimaces, and look like that, MissBozerne," she continued, in her nasty, vinegary way. "If young ladiesare so forgetful of decorum, and cannot be content with a fair share offood at the tea table, but must gluttonously stoop to steal pieces offthe plate to devour at abnormal times, they must expect to be spokento."
Just as if I had taken the horrid stuff to eat, when so great was myagitation that I could partake of nothing. So there I was, with my faceand neck burning in a most "abnormal" way, as Miss Furness would havecalled it, wiping and smearing the butter about over the pane of glass,and hardly seeing what I was doing for the tears; when there was thatPatty Smith staring at me with her great saucer eyes, and her mouth maderound and open, as if it had been another eye, and Clara the whole timeenjoying it all, and laughing at my discomfort. It was really much toobad, for it was all her fault: the wicked, mischievous, impish creaturehad seen me put the pieces of bread and butter into my pocket, and hadactually set Patty to snatch the handkerchief out.
"The plan succeeded beyond my expectations, darling," she exclaimedafterwards, when we were alone; and I did not slap her--which, withoutboasting, must, I think, show how forgiving a spirit I possess.
But, to return to the scene in the room. When I had finished smearingthe window with my pretty little cambric handkerchief, I threw open thesash, and was going to fling out the little pieces of bread-crumbs forthe poor little birds--
"Miss Bozerne!" exclaimed Miss Furness, "what are you about?"
"Going to give the crumbs to the birds, ma'am," I said, hu
mbly.
"Oh, dear me, no," exclaimed the old puss, seizing upon what sheconsidered a good opportunity for making an example of me, and giving alesson to the other girls--for that seemed one of the aims of her life:to make lessons out of everything she said or did, till she was aperfect nuisance. "Oh, dear me, no--such waste cannot be allowed. Goand put the fragments upon one of the plates, which James or the cookwill give you, and ask her to save them for your breakfast."
I could have cried with vexation; but I did not, though it was very,very, very hard work to keep the tears back.
"Oh, Achille! Achille!" I murmured again, "c'est pour toi!"
I walked out, like a martyr, bearing the pieces, with bent-down eyes,and gave them to the cook, telling her she