&M 
 
 
 ^m 
 
 mmm 
 
 iJ^W'J 
 
 
 «*W* 
 
 a»y 
 
 
 . A a i. •J.k.j . .i. . . ^ 
 
 
 ^*v* 
 
 ^" ,,w^VWWWW 
 
 
 v ~ -' - . V ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ir^ffM 1 
 
 *^ y ^
 
 C«2g 
 
 c C 
 
 
 «t v 
 
 «Cc r 
 
 crc c 
 
 CC«L.f C 
 
 
 CO 
 
 CCCL 
 
 e CC 
 
 « C « 
 
 r ■ , 
 
 ccc s ^^—. -a 
 
 «"CX cc" < «. V. * 
 
 CCc 
 
 «C<C< <sk<C VC
 
 
 
 
 3C * 
 
 
 < c 
 
 
 
 
 t ■-<- ^ 
 
 C - 
 c 1 
 
 <srT 
 
 
 
 c <5 
 
 
 
 C CO 
 
 C C' 
 
 C 
 ( 
 
 < c 
 
 ( <
 
 LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 323 
 
 M316po 
 
 v. 1
 
 POPLAK HOUSE ACADEMY. 
 
 I 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "MARY POWELL." 
 
 In every village, marked with little spire, 
 Embowered in trees, and hardly known to fame, 
 There dwells, in lowly shade and mean attire, 
 A matron old, whom we schoolmistress name." 
 
 Shensto^e. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 
 
 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 1859.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BT JAMES S. VIRTUE, 
 
 CITY ROAD.
 
 2.3 
 
 
 POPLAR HOUSE ACADEMY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Somewhat back from the village street 
 Stands the old-fashioned country-seat ; 
 Across its antique portico 
 Tall poplar trees their shadows throw ; 
 And, from its station in the hall, 
 An antique time-piece says to all, 
 
 'For ever! never! 
 
 Never ! for ever ! ' 
 
 Longfellow : The Old Clock on the Stairs. 
 
 HOW well I remember that evening ! My 
 two sisters sat looking into the fire, and 
 I could see that Jacintha's heart was swelling ; 
 while tears silently rolled down Marian's cheeks. 
 "Yes, I suppose that must be it," said Ja- 
 
 B
 
 2 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 cintlia reluctantly at last. " We need not have 
 troubled ourselves to consider whether we could 
 consent to receive my father's protection, since 
 he has placed us beyond the pale of it." 
 
 " And thereby relieved us of a difficulty/ ' 
 said I ; suggesting a comfort that I felt was a 
 very poor one. 
 
 "The only thing is the disgrace/' said Ja- 
 cintha, knitting her brow a little. 
 
 "Oh, there's the sin!" ejaculated poor Ma- 
 rian ; and tears at the same moment streamed 
 so fast from her eyes, that ours sympathetically 
 burst forth. 
 
 "This won't do — " said Jacintha at last, 
 after crying very heartily. 
 
 " ' Any good/ " added I, as if she had not 
 finished her sentence. "No, that's quite cer- 
 tain. Come, let us all cheer up a little/' 
 
 "How can we?" said Marian, trying to 
 smile, and lapsing into tears again.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 3 
 
 " Marian, you're eighteen. Jacintha and I 
 are old women in comparison. Indeed, / am 
 an old maid really, and have been ever since I 
 was born ; and Jacintha will be, if she lives to 
 be old enough." 
 
 "Well, what then?" 
 
 "What then? Why, Jacintha and I not 
 being quite so young and tender as you, do not 
 feel things quite so keenly — though we do feel 
 them bitterly, too." 
 
 " That's one comfort — I mean it is a comfort 
 that you don't feel them so keenly," said 
 Marian, drying her eyes; "because I know 
 very well that I do feel things too much, and 
 I will cure myself if I can, and when I can — 
 only I can't do it all at once" — with a sweet, 
 April smile. 
 
 "Of course you can't. But, as I'm the 
 eldest, you know it is my province to preach a 
 little. Now, let us all compose ourselves, and
 
 4 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 have tea comfortably, and then talk over what 
 is to be done." 
 
 1 ' Oh, let us talk over what is to be done first, 
 and have tea afterwards, please," said Marian. 
 
 "Yes, I'm for that, too," said Jacintha, 
 ' c unless Isabella particularly wishes for tea." 
 
 " Oh no," said I, " I can wait—" (though I 
 should have liked it.) 
 
 " Well then, now for it : — Here are we three 
 spinsters, bereaved of our dear mother by death, 
 and of our father by his suddenly quitting the 
 kingdom with every penny he can lay his hands 
 on — leaving us with nothing — " 
 
 H Except his debts," said Jacintha. 
 
 w No, we are not liable to them : — except this 
 house, I was going to say, which, luckily, was 
 settled on my mother and her children — and 
 fifty pounds a year each." 
 
 ' ' On which we must starve," said Jacintha. 
 
 " Unless we do something," said I.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 5 
 
 " Which of course we shall ! " cried Marian. 
 ' ' I'm ready, for one. Let me be the first ! I'll 
 go out as governess, and then you two will have 
 time to look about you and let the house. Dear 
 old house \" said she, looking wistfully round. 
 
 ' ' Marian, what nonsense ! " cried Jacintha. 
 " I shall be the one to go out first ; you're too 
 young — who would have such a chit V* 
 
 " I know I could not command such a salary 
 as you could," said Marian, meekly. 
 
 "No, certainly you couldn't, though you 
 are twice as clever as I am, and much better 
 read, and more popular with children — " 
 
 " Oh, Jacintha ! how can you say so ? You 
 are all that, and more ! I know very well I'm 
 not equal to you ; still, I might do something, 
 and we can but do our best, you know — " 
 
 " There's only one thing, Marian, in which 
 I am your superior — and that is, in age. I'm 
 ten years older, and shall therefore fetch ten
 
 6 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 or perhaps twenty guineas more per annum in 
 the governessing market." 
 
 " Well, I hope you may, I am sure, Jacintha, 
 for it will not be more than you are worth; 
 and whatever I get, I shall be satisfied with, 
 if it is enough to keep me from encumbering 
 you; though, of course, I shall be very glad 
 if I can spare a little for Isabella." 
 
 " You seem both consigning me to very 
 inglorious inactivity!" said I. " Pray, what 
 am / to do ?" 
 
 " Oh, you are not strong enough to do any- 
 thing," said Marian. " You must live on the 
 hundred and fifty pounds a year, if you can." 
 
 " But / can't. What ! live upon your and 
 Jacintha' s little incomes, as well as my own ? 
 No, Marian ! I'll never do that." 
 
 " Nonsense," interposed Jacintha, " you 
 must not go out. You must be crazy to think 
 of it."
 
 Poplar House Academy. j 
 
 " I will not go out, if you and Marian will 
 
 not." 
 
 " Why, what else can we do V s 
 
 " Keep a school." 
 
 11 A school ! Oh, horrible ! " exclaimed Ja- 
 cintha. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " I was afraid you would think so," 
 at length said I rather apologetically. 
 " The only thing is, we need not then sepa- 
 rate." 
 
 " Oh, horrid !" repeated Jacintha. " What ! a 
 school in this dear old house ? What desecra- 
 tion !" 
 
 " Suppose the tenant to whom we let it, 
 applies it to that purpose ? " 
 
 " Oh, we must provide against that in the 
 covenant of the lease." 
 
 After another pause, Marian remarked, " I 
 wonder what John would think."
 
 8 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Fm sure he would not like it," said Ja- 
 cintha, shortly. 
 
 Another pause; again broken by Marian, 
 who observed, "It certainly would be very 
 nice for us all to keep together." 
 
 " So it would ! " exclaimed Jacintha, with 
 one of those revulsions of feeling which she 
 sometimes exhibited. " Oh ! I see it must 
 be ! I'll give in ! We toill keep a school ! " 
 
 She had, I believe, been hastily turning over 
 in her mind every hope of escape from it, with- 
 out finding one, and therefore sensibly struck 
 her colours. 
 
 " That's settled, then \" cried Marian, gladly. 
 " And I have a presentiment we shall succeed, 
 and like it very much indeed." 
 
 " Then now we'll have tea," said I, ringing 
 for it as I spoke. At the same moment, the 
 tinkle of a muffin-bell was heard in the street. 
 
 I have an affection for the muffin-bell. I
 
 Poplar House Academy. 9 
 
 inherit it from my mother, who used to say 
 it always called up in her imagination pictures 
 of tradesmen's snug little tea-tables, in small 
 back-parlours behind the shop, where a bright 
 kettle was singing on the hob, and a sleek cat 
 sleeping on the clean hearth. 
 
 11 Come, we'll have some muffins/' said I 
 munificently, as Hawkins spread the table-cover. 
 
 " Don't launch into extravagances already, 
 Isabella," said Jacintha ; ' ' it will do us much 
 more good to begin self-denial. I don't care 
 for muffins." 
 
 " Then where's the self-denial ? " said I, 
 laughing. " I do, and so does Marian, I know. 
 Here's a sixpence, Hawkins, to invest for us in 
 muffins and crumpets. See that you make a 
 good bargain." 
 
 " Isabella reminds me of Moore's lines," said 
 Marian, humming them playfully, not senti- 
 mentally —
 
 io Poplar House Academy, 
 
 " ' Come, chase that starting tear away, 
 Ere mine to meet it springs ! 
 To-night, at least to-night be gay, 
 Whate'er to-morrow brings !'" 
 
 " Ergo, eat muffins, and put an extra spoonful 
 of tea into the teapot/' said I, laughing, as 
 Marian proceeded to measure the tea, not with 
 a spoon, but a little silver shell, out of a small 
 silver caddy, engraven, not embossed, and worn 
 exceeding thin by the plate-leathers of three 
 generations. 
 
 I observed Hawkins give a puzzled, half- 
 peevish, half-pleased look, as she took the 
 money, and eyed us one after the other. 
 
 " Well, Hawkins, what is it ? " said I. 
 
 " Oh, there, I'm glad to see your spirits 
 mending/' said she, with a little jerk of the 
 chin ; " but, sure enough, I do wonder some- 
 times what the ladies is laughing at ! M 
 
 " One of the Miss Middlemasses' wonderful
 
 Poplar House Academy. 1 1 
 
 jokes, you dull old Hawkins ! " said Marian, 
 with a pat on her shoulder. 
 
 " The Misses Middlemass," said I. 
 
 " Oh no, for pity's sake, no ! " cried Jacintha. 
 "Rather, set grammar at defiance — such a 
 blue-board academy phrase ! ( Seminary for 
 young ladies, by the Misses Middlemass.' — 
 Horrible ! " 
 
 " Suppose we ignore seminaries and acade- 
 mies, and prohibit the words horrible and 
 horrid till after tea," said I : ' ' otherwise, I 
 must say, c Miss Marian, pass the mark ! ' " 
 
 We all laughed. 
 
 " Another of 'the ladies' queer jokes/ 
 Hawkins will think/' said Marian, merrily. 
 " Poor old soul ! she can't imagine what we 
 find in them to laugh at, nor how we can 
 laugh at all." 
 
 " Family jokes," said Jacintha. " Few out 
 of the magic circle can see the point of them."
 
 1 2 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " They are excellent things, though/' said 
 I : ' ' a good stock in hand of familiar, harmless 
 mirth." 
 
 " Dear me, how people will open their eyes 
 when they hear what we are going to do ! " 
 said Jacintha. 
 
 " If they do nothing worse than that, we 
 need not mind it much," said I. 
 
 " Worse ? I hope and expect they'll do ' a 
 deal better,' as Hawkins says ! M cried Marian. 
 "Opening their eyes would not get us any 
 pupils : I expect them to open their ears, and 
 hearts, and purses. Depend on it, we shall 
 soon be obliged to say ' a limited number only 
 is taken \'" 
 
 "Ah, that's a professional fiction," said 
 Jacintha. "Schoolmasters and schoolmistresses 
 generally limit themselves to as many as they 
 can get." 
 
 "Or their houses can hold," suggested I.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 1 3 
 
 C( 
 
 Only bachelors' houses are elastic. Come, 
 Marian, dispense the herb that cheers but 
 not inebriates. Here come the muffins." 
 
 " The idea ! " presently exclaimed Jacintha ; 
 " the idea that pupils will pour in ! How do 
 we know we shall get even one ? I dare say 
 we shall not." 
 
 " One would be worse than none," said I ; 
 " for there would be all the routine, with very 
 little return." 
 
 "On the contrary, / should very gladly 
 begin with only one," said Marian; "and 
 rather prefer it, because it would be some one 
 to practice on, before we committed any 
 blunders on a magnified scale. What ought 
 the routine to be, I wonder?" 
 
 We were all profoundly ignorant. Not one 
 of us had ever been at school. My mother 
 had educated me, with the assistance of mas- 
 ters; and I, with the assistance of masters, 
 had educated my sisters.
 
 14 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Oh, we shall soon arrange all that," said 
 Jacintha ; " I have not the least fear of any- 
 thing of that kind." 
 
 " Nor I, with two so clever as Isabella and 
 you to arrange it/' said Marian; "I only 
 thought you could give me some little notion." 
 
 1 ' We'll put it all down on paper after tea," 
 said I ; " that will be the only way." 
 
 "Yes; because we really must have some- 
 thing definite before us," said Marian. "I 
 suppose we must have a French and English 
 teacher." 
 
 " Dear me, no." 
 
 " Dear me, 
 Said I and Jacintha at the same moment. 
 
 "No!" repeated Jacintha, with surprise. 
 
 "Well, I have a prejudice against French 
 teachers," said I. "I confess, I fancy them 
 all profligate and treacherous, and too much 
 for us simple unsophisticated bodies. They 
 would get flirting with the dancing-master, or 
 
 s, no." \ 
 3, yes." )
 
 Poplar House Academy. 15 
 
 reading French novels in bed ; or — there's no 
 knowing what they might not do. I am snre 
 it would disturb my rest at night." 
 " But, my dear Isabella — ! " 
 "But, my dear Jacintha, we shall do per- 
 fectly well without one. Good old Monsieur 
 Hebert gave you an excellent French accent ; 
 and, besides, who wants to speak French like 
 a native, in this place? Let us limit our 
 undertakings to our capabilities : teach what 
 we know to as many as we can teach, and 
 no more : then, all the profits will be ours, 
 instead of being cut up by having to pay 
 salaries." 
 
 f ' Surely that is a sensible idea ! n cried 
 Marian appealingly to Jacintha, who looked 
 dubious. " Yes, yes ; you shall teach French 
 and take the general superintendence ; Isabella 
 will keep house, receive visitors, and have a 
 class in the parlour for composition and Italian,
 
 1 6 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 and sit by when the music and drawing masters 
 come; and I will take the general drudgery 
 that any one not an idiot may fearlessly under- 
 take — reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, 
 grammar — " 
 
 ( ' Marian, Marian ! " interposed Jacintha. 
 
 ' ( And use of the globes ! " added Marian, 
 laughingly. " A school would not be a school 
 without that!" 
 
 A pause ensued. 
 
 "What is Isabella thinking of?" said Ma- 
 rian, softly. 
 
 " Why," said I, with a little hesitation, " I 
 don't like seeing any defect in my own 
 scheme; but — " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 " If this is carried out, I fear that Jacintha 
 and you will never marry." 
 
 " Oh, pray don't let that trouble you ! " said 
 Jacintha, reining up her head.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 17 
 
 " No, it really should not/' pursued Marian 
 earnestly ; " because, what has prevented our 
 marrying hitherto, if any suitable persons had 
 wanted to marry us ? You know very well, 
 Isabella, such persons do not abound here, or 
 you would not have remained single, unless by 
 your own choice ; and as for Jacintha, — when 
 some one worthy of her, and whom she can 
 consent to admit to be so, shall appear, never 
 fear his making his way to her, whether we 
 keep a school or not \" 
 
 " The simplicity of the child ! " said Ja- 
 cintha, looking across to me, with a smile and 
 a sigh. 
 
 ' ' Child ! Fm eighteen ! " cried Marian. 
 ' ' And as steady as old Time ! Please don't 
 lower my dignity, Jacintha, or it will be im- 
 possible for me to inspire respect." 
 
 u From the one pupil ! Oh dear, no ! I 
 
 won't lower your dignity." 
 
 c
 
 1 8 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " What will be the first step you shall take, 
 Isabella?" 
 
 "I rather think I shall call upon Mrs. 
 Meade." 
 
 " Mrs. Meade ? What can she know about 
 school-keeping ?" cried Jacintha. 
 
 "Not much more than she does about 
 almost everything else, probably," said I; 
 " but there is hardly a subject on which she 
 cannot say something to the purpose. Besides, 
 she is a good sympathizer, which is always a 
 comfort; and perhaps she may even get us a 
 pupil." 
 
 "She?" 
 
 " Yes. Do not recoil too impatiently from 
 any opening. Afterwards, I think I shall call 
 upon Mrs. Cole." 
 
 " Oh, Isabella ! " 
 
 " I know her to be no favourite of yours, 
 nor is she of mine ; but you must remember 
 she is a retired schoolmistress — "
 
 Poplar House Academy. 1 9 
 
 " True ! this is the first time I ever forgot 
 it/' said Jacintha. 
 
 "And may have valuable information to 
 impart." 
 
 " Depend on it she won't give it you ! " 
 
 " Well, we shall see. Why should I depend 
 on it before I have tried?" 
 
 " Oh, if you like to," said Jacintha, with 
 distaste. 
 
 " What do you mean to do ? " said I. " I 
 think it will be a very good plan for us each to 
 do whatever we can, to-morrow, according to 
 our several judgments." 
 
 " Then I shall call on Mrs. Forsyth," said 
 Jacintha, with decision. 
 
 " I don't think much good is likely to accrue 
 from that," said I. 
 
 " No more than I think there is any good in 
 your calling on Mrs. Cole," retorted Ja- 
 cintha.
 
 20 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 " We each have our cronies/ ' observed 
 Marian. 
 
 " Crony is hardly a suitable word for a Mrs. 
 Forsyth/' said Jacintha. 
 
 " / shall call on Mrs. Christmas/' said Marian. 
 " Marian \" 
 
 " I shall ! We each have our cronies." 
 And again, old Hawkins, as she entered to 
 clear the table, was cheered with that sweet, 
 silvery laugh. 
 
 "'Another of the Miss Middlemasses' funny 
 jokes, Hawkins." 
 
 " Dear ladies, I hopes the muffins was to 
 your mind." 
 
 " Quite, thank you : I feel all the better for 
 them; and so, I dare say, do my sisters, for 
 they could not touch their dinner." 
 
 " Ah, that is why you thought of the muf- 
 fins," said Jacintha. "Well, it really was 
 kind of you."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 21 
 
 When candles were lit and the table cleared, 
 Marian set to work with writing materials, to 
 sketch out her crude ideas of cards, circulars, 
 and " the daily routine." 
 
 " I wonder," said she, after having been 
 thus employed for some time, " I wonder what 
 John will think of it." 
 
 " Time enough for him to know when all is 
 settled," said Jacintha. 
 
 I believe we each had our misgivings on the 
 subject.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A husbandman, whose tliree sons were not always on the 
 best terms, one day pointed to a fagot, and desired each 
 of them in turn to try to break it. After they had all 
 failed, he directed them to untie it, and then try to snap 
 each stick separately ; which they did with ease. Then 
 said the old man, " Thus you, my children, as long as 
 you remain united, are a match for all your enemies ; 
 but, differ and separate, and you are all undone!" — 
 iEsop's Fables. 
 
 IT appears to me that the Middlemasses have 
 always thought sufficiently well of them- 
 selves. By this I may be understood to imply 
 that we have thought rather more of ourselves 
 than there was, perhaps, any absolute occasion 
 for. Thus, we were not of the lower ranks, 
 but were not high born; and yet we thought 
 and talked a good deal of " the family," though 
 we knew nothing of it beyond our grandfather
 
 Poplar House Academy. 23 
 
 — a plain, honest man. Also, we were apt to 
 think we had sustained heavy losses, and been 
 reduced from great affluence ; whereas our 
 means had never been more than moderate, 
 though extremely comfortable, till my father's 
 expensive courses began. Again, we regarded 
 our domestic misfortunes as remarkably hard 
 and worthy of a very extraordinary amount of 
 sympathy from our friends; whereas I now 
 incline to believe that hundreds and thousands 
 of families of the middle class might have been 
 found at any time, in any part of the United 
 "Kingdoms, who would have thought their lot 
 vastly bettered indeed, had it been no more 
 aggravated than ours. However, fortunately for 
 us, there was a sincerity in our representations 
 of our affairs, which completely won over the 
 majority of our acquaintance to view them 
 precisely as we did. We were very much 
 pitied and condoled with, and great allowances
 
 24 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 were made for us, and a great deal of interest 
 and curiosity elicited about what we should do 
 and how we should do it; though, after all, 
 perhaps, we may have occupied far less of 
 their thoughts in this way than we supposed. 
 
 Our maternal grandfather and grandmother 
 were a worthy couple of the name of Edmon- 
 stone. They lived in the small but cheerful 
 country town of Bayford, in the very house we 
 now occupied. From this house my mother 
 married ; in this house, my aunt Christy con- 
 tinued to minister to her parents till they 
 dropped off; to this house, we Middlemass 
 girls used to be uncommonly glad to pay long 
 visits, whether in winter or summer, to grand- 
 papa and grandmamma, till such time as we 
 got dreadfully home-sick, and privately sent a 
 line to mamma to beg to be recalled. These 
 visits afforded us our only glimpses of the 
 country ; for our father, who was a busy man
 
 Poplar House Academy, 25 
 
 in the city, contented himself with renting a 
 good family house, neither in nor out of town, 
 and never sent us to the sea-side. We used 
 to be very happy during the early part of our 
 lives : the first half of the day was engaged in 
 lessons, under my mother's superintendence; 
 then came walking, a visit or two to pay or 
 receive, and my father's return in the evening. 
 This was always the signal for cheerfulness; 
 he used to come home for relaxation, and liked 
 to see my mother nicely dressed and everything 
 in apple-pie order for him. When we were too 
 young to dine late, they generally dined by 
 themselves ; but my mother was one of those 
 who, while practising a genteel economy, 
 always knew how to give a genial air to a meal, 
 though it were but a cold joint of mutton. The 
 plate would be bright, the vegetables delicately 
 dressed, proper condiments at hand, and a 
 pudding, devised or perhaps made by herself,
 
 26 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 would crown the feast. She would not buy 
 salmon at three shillings a pound, but she did 
 not grudge sixteen-pence ; she would not give 
 half-a-crown for a peach, but would have the 
 freshest, ripest of strawberries and cherries in 
 their season. My father was a tall, strikingly 
 handsome man, though his hair was as white 
 as snow. He always brought home the news 
 of the day, which my mother enjoyed hearing 
 him retail, for she had no leisure hours to waste 
 in the morning over the Times ; and, as he 
 came out with one scrap of information after 
 another, over his wine and walnuts, it is sur- 
 prising to think to what account she could 
 turn it. 
 
 " c Hurricane at the Caraccas : ' Marian, 
 where are the Caraccas ? Turn to the atlas, 
 dear. i An opera by Bononcini is going to be 
 revived : ' Isabella, I forget about Bononcini — 
 was not he a rival of Handel's ? ' Some uew
 
 Poplar House Academy. 27 
 
 discoveries made at Pompeii :' by the by, 
 Jacintha, you can tell us, I fancy, when Pompeii 
 was overwhelmed ? " 
 
 Yes, those were pleasant days. John (the 
 only boy among us, bom after me and before 
 Jacintha) was at Merchant Taylors' School ; 
 but we had enough of him, if not rather too 
 much, in the holidays ; and sometimes we were 
 very glad when he .went down to finish them off 
 with grandpapa and grandmamma Edmonstone. 
 
 We were glad when he went there, but we 
 were still more glad to go ourselves. Oh, how 
 joyful we were, when my mother or my father 
 accompanied one or two of us to the coach- 
 office in Bishopgate Street, saw us safely en- 
 sconced inside the old stage-coach, and our 
 small box safely stowed on the roof, under the 
 tarpaulin, and then charged us with messages 
 and advice, and smiled and nodded to the last ! 
 How we could hardly sit still with delight and
 
 28 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 impatience to be off, unless there were five 
 other insides, or one or two cross enough for 
 five; which subdued us very much. But it 
 was generally my luck to travel with some nice 
 old gentleman ; it occurred so often that at last 
 I used quite to look out for him, and be disap- 
 pointed if he did not appear. He and I gene- 
 rally got very cordial towards the end of the 
 journey, and he learnt a good deal more of my 
 history than I did of his. We used to know all 
 the pretty wayside inns where the horses would 
 be changed; and, just as day was closing, 
 whether in a glare of midsummer sunshine or 
 shrouded in December gloom, we would dash 
 up to ' c The White Hart," Bay ford, and see our 
 upright, white-headed, brisk-looking old grand- 
 father standing just under the porch beside the 
 innkeeper, ready to receive us and carry us 
 home. 
 
 That home was at the end of the town — at the
 
 Poplar House Academy. 29 
 
 end of the principal street, just where it began 
 to fall off into fields and gardener s' -grounds — 
 and at the end of a long narrow front garden 
 with a double avenue of fine poplars, a carriage 
 sweep, and a long, oval grass-plat. Five or six 
 wide shallow steps led up to the house-door, 
 which had a handsome, heavily carved archi- 
 trave, almost as cumbrous as a pulpit sounding- 
 board, and opened into a square hall, paved 
 with black and white marble in diamonds or 
 lozenges. 
 
 The ceiling was painted in uncommonly vivid 
 oil colours, by a free, masterly hand, with 
 sprawling goddesses and cupids embedded in 
 clouds. The staircase was double, forming 
 several right-angles, and of carved oak. On the 
 right hand was the drawing-room, with its 
 carved ceiling, cornice, and high mantelpiece; 
 on the left, the long, narrow dining-room, with 
 its strait-backed chairs worked in Turk-stitch.
 
 30 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 Both these apartments had smaller rooms be- 
 yond, and there was another sitting-room be- 
 hind the drawing-room, appropriated to my 
 grandfather's use. Upstairs were nnmerons 
 bedrooms and dressing-rooms, on various 
 levels; on the basement, excellent servants' 
 offices. Coach-house and stables on one side 
 the house; good kitchen-garden, bowling-green, 
 and formally laid out flower-garden behind. 
 
 Such was the house to which we delighted 
 to repair ; capering up the steps to greet my 
 grandmother and aunt, with broad smiles and 
 impetuous kisses. Sometimes Jacintha and 
 I were sent together ; sometimes, I was allowed 
 to undertake the charge of the more timid 
 Marian, and, in earlier times, I often went by 
 myself; but latterly, when my dear mother 
 required more of my care, I was the one who 
 went least frequently. 
 
 Behold us proceeding in procession to the
 
 Poplar House Academy. 3 1 
 
 bedroom with clean white dimity furniture, 
 that had been duly prepared for ns : grand- 
 mamma, in her voluminous habiliments, sail- 
 ing before us ; aunt Christy, who is short, fat, 
 and rosy, with an arm round our waists, and 
 Hawkins, who was then only beginning to be 
 rather an old-maidish parlour-maid, carrying 
 the boxes, while grandpapa stood at the hall- 
 door rummaging out sixpence for the porter. 
 What an immensity we had to tell about papa, 
 mamma, and our selves ! How very little lei- 
 sure we found for asking questions ! How 
 aunt Christy would laugh at our talking our- 
 selves out of breath ! — how grandmamma, 
 never satiated, would enjoy it all; and how 
 tardily we at length went down to dinner ! 
 
 Then there was grandpapa to begin with 
 again. There was little done but talking the 
 first evening. Perhaps a song might be sung 
 — a piece of fancy-work produced and criticized,
 
 32 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 but very few stitches were taken. Dear me ! 
 it seems but yesterday. We got dreadfully 
 sleepy at last, being a good deal shaken by 
 the journey; and grandmamma would bring 
 out rich seed-cake, and plum-cake, and biscuits 
 for supper ; and we secretly felt we could have 
 eaten them all and more — we were so hungry ! 
 No danger of lying awake that night ! — in 
 sheets dried on a sweetbriar hedge, and laid 
 in lavender, on a bed soft as down. People 
 enjoyed soft beds in those days : now they are 
 accustomed to prefer hard ones. For my part, 
 I used to think it quite enchanting to sink (at 
 Christmas) into a mass of feathers that all but 
 closed over me, and lie blinking at the unusual 
 luxury of a wood-fire smouldering on the 
 hearth. My mother had the impression that 
 my grandmother used to let her spare beds get 
 damp : however, they never materially hurt 
 any of us, though we certainly often had
 
 Poplar House Academy, 33 
 
 tremendously bad colds. But grandmamma 
 always said we caught them on the journey, 
 and told us how dangerous it was to let down 
 the coach- window. 
 
 Then, the next morning grandpapa would 
 say, " Come, young ladies, it will do you no 
 harm to take three runs round the garden with 
 me before breakfast," and start off in advance, 
 clapping his arms across the chest. Then, 
 when we came panting into the breakfast-room, 
 grandmamma would say, " Bless the girls ! 
 what colours ! " and nudge my aunt to look at 
 us. Continually during breakfast-time, she 
 would ejaculate, " How they have shot up, to 
 be sure! Well, time slips away;" and, 
 directly after breakfast, my grandfather would 
 brush up his hat, tell us to put on our bonnets 
 {bunnets he always called them), clip us under 
 his arm, and trot off to exhibit us to Mrs. Cole, 
 or Mrs. Leftwych, or Mrs. Price. Everybody
 
 34 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 knew and respected my grandfather: it was 
 not that he was rich ; it was not that he was 
 eminent or powerful in any one direction, 
 except in the way of manner and character. 
 The first was charming; the latter, first-rate. 
 Kissing his hand, or nodding, or gracefully 
 bowing, or gaily smiling, to one and another 
 as he passed along the street, many were the 
 friendly though transient feelings he awakened. 
 " Mr. Price, good day to yon. This is my 
 grand- daughter, sir \" 
 
 " Indeed ! Upon my word, sir, she seems 
 a very nice young lady." 
 
 This used to make us feel rather foolish, and 
 wish grandpapa would move on; while he, 
 quite unaware of our self-consciousness, would 
 linger to have a few more words with Mr. 
 Price on affairs social and domestic. 
 
 This worthy couple are now dead : nay, they 
 had long been dead when I and my sisters sat
 
 Poplar House Academy. 35 
 
 in their old places revolving the scheme of 
 opening a school. As Jacintha and I advanced 
 in womanhood, affairs became less pleasant at 
 home : my father became too mnch of a 
 stranger in it. A clone! fell over the house; 
 it could not be altogether concealed from 
 grandpapa and grandmamma, who became 
 very unhappy about it : then there was a great 
 deal of letter-writing ; too much of it, I often 
 thought; and yet, how could consolation be 
 sought or sympathy expressed but by letter? 
 No, we had great need to be thankful for the 
 general post; and were so in our hearts. I 
 am sure I used to watch for the postman 
 turning the corner, and could settle to nothing 
 till I saw him ; and then, if he had nothing for 
 us, and went by, I sometimes turned quite faint. 
 Occasionally he used to catch my eye, many 
 doors off, and shake his head. 
 
 My grandfather's and grandmother's chief
 
 36 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 resource for us was having us down to stay 
 with them. But union is strength, and we did 
 not much like to divide. My mother's post 
 was clearly at home; I was much needed by 
 her; and as for Jacintha and Marian, they 
 became wretched if they were long absent from 
 us. However, we did go to Bayford each in 
 turn, too : they were getting in years, and we 
 felt it was due to such kind relatives and 
 protectors. Besides, we really liked being 
 with them, though each enjoyed herself in a 
 different way. 
 
 Grandmamma and grandpapa — I smile while 
 I write it — had the notion that I was a very 
 superior woman : they told people so ; I have 
 overheard them whisper it, and say I was very 
 clever indeed, quite a genius; it was a pity 
 everybody did not know it ; nobody would 
 guess what was in me, I was so retiring ; and 
 the dearest girl ! so fond of home, &c. &c. &c.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 37 
 
 It was a sad reflection to poor grandmamma 
 that your very superior people are often mightily 
 behindhand in very commonplace acquirements, 
 and her grand aim was to endue me with such 
 a measure of these as that I should be quite 
 perfection. Consequently, there was nothing 
 she liked better than to be closeted with me 
 in a little sanctum of her own, where were 
 sugar and spice and all that's nice, and to say, 
 " Isabel, my dear, there is nothing in what I 
 am going to show you that the most delicate 
 lady may not do without even soiling her 
 fingers, if she be but commonly careful ; u and 
 then proceed to initiate me into the mysteries 
 of a ratifia pudding, or hunter's pudding, or 
 cheesecake, or a Chantilly basket; Hawkins 
 having to trot up and down all the while with 
 plates, cups, spoons, eggs, milk, cream, and 
 undergo to the full as much trouble as if she 
 had made the article outright.
 
 38 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 Jacintha was more Aunt Christy's companion. 
 Both of them were rather fond of dress and 
 parties ; and Aunt Christy, who was conscious, 
 perhaps, of not being very much in request 
 herself, except for better qualities than those 
 that mainly embellish evening parties, was 
 pleased to take out with her a niece so hand- 
 some and agreeable as Jacintha, gifted with a 
 beautiful and cultivated voice. 
 
 Marian had ways of her own for amusing 
 herself there. There were certain very secret 
 and mysterious essays in authorship, original 
 design, and musical composition, that she 
 could carry out nowhere so free from moles- 
 tation as in the dear old house. Marian 
 could have been a first-rate genius in almost 
 every department, had her capabilities been 
 properly cultivated. And as it was, the crea- 
 tive, inventive faculty, was continually mani- 
 festing itself, and breaking out in various little
 
 Poplar House Academy. 39 
 
 attempts, that sometimes won the admiration, 
 sometimes the laughter, of the domestic hearth ; 
 at which she was, in the one case, innocently 
 elated, in the other, rather sore. But her 
 mortification always found an outlet in some 
 funny speech ; for Marian could not be pettish 
 or ill-tempered. As for music, she would 
 really improvise grandly, when she thought 
 nobody within hearing, which my mother and 
 I have sometimes wickedly contrived to be. 
 But, if asked or desired to improvise in our 
 presence, she would say, " Oh, very well," and 
 after a grand crash on the keys, sing off an 
 extempore travestie of the most amusing 
 description, of one of Jacintha's fine Italian 
 bravuras, — " Ombra adorata," for instance, — 
 till my mother and I were in fits of laughter, 
 and Jacintha would start up and give her a 
 good shaking. Before company Marian's ac- 
 quirements were shut up as closely as a rose-
 
 4-0 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 bud unblown. She would not launch out in 
 this way even to John, though both he and 
 my father appreciated musical genius. These 
 little snatches of country life revived us, 
 even after my dear grandfather and grand- 
 mother were dead, and poor Aunt Christy was 
 very glad of a companion. She did not depend 
 on one, however, but bustled on manfully by 
 herself, coming up to town once or twice a 
 year. 
 
 Suddenly she sickened, and was carried off 
 by a malady that must have been of long 
 standing, though the sturdy little woman had 
 never succumbed, nor made mention of it. 
 Poor Aunt Christy ! 
 
 Then the Poplar House came to my mother, 
 and after her death, to her daughters. My 
 father was glad to send us all down to it; 
 change of air for my mother was the plea j and 
 certainly, if any air or any place could have
 
 Poplar House Academy. 41 
 
 restored her this would. But she languished, 
 and at length died j of water on the chest it 
 was professionally said. 
 
 My father was very kind to us after that. 
 And then we lost sight of him again, always 
 on plea of "business, business." Sometimes 
 he answered our letters; often not. People 
 began to be shy of inquiring after him of us, 
 and to think it best to ignore his existence. 
 
 But they could not at last ; because it was 
 publicly known that he had suddenly left 
 the kingdom in a disgraceful manner. John 
 was now junior partner in a respectable mer- 
 cantile house, and led a respectable but some- 
 what selfish bachelor life, paying our allow- 
 ances regularly, generally coupled with a letter 
 of rather unnecessary advice. John, at this 
 momentous crisis, was in the Channel Islands, 
 and detained by contrary winds. We could 
 not even get a letter to him. It was very 
 well, therefore, for Marian to say, — "What
 
 42 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 will John think, I wonder?" and quite im- 
 possible for any one to answer her by saying 
 what he would think : though we had our 
 apprehensions that he would think differently 
 from ourselves. John had good and generous 
 qualities, though they were somewhat smothered 
 by his business life. For my part, I thought 
 it just as likely he would befriend us as not ; 
 and say we must not think of a school, or any- 
 thing of the sort — he would represent my 
 father, and make provision for us all if we 
 would but be economical, and keep together, 
 and preserve, as far as in us lay, the respect- 
 ability of "the family." I confess that this 
 consoled me when I went to bed that night ; 
 and that, the more I lay awake and thought it 
 over, the more likely it appeared. I did not 
 in the least know what John's actual money - 
 worth was ; but estimated it, in a general way, 
 at " something considerable."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "When gathering clonds around we view, 
 And days are dark, and friends are few, 
 On Him we'll lean, who, not in vain, 
 Experienced every human pain. 
 He sees our griefs, allays our fears, 
 And counts and treasures up our tears. 
 
 Gka^t. 
 
 THE next morning, my little wheel-chair 
 was brought to the door. 
 I have forgotten to say, that I was crippled 
 in the hip-joint. It was owing to an accident. 
 One day, I was walking beside this very chair, 
 with my dear mother in it, when an overdriven 
 ox came racing down the street, and so fright- 
 ened the boy who was drawing the chair, that 
 he hauled it against a door- step, and overturned
 
 44 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 it and my poor mother upon me. I, aiming to 
 save her (which I did), got a hurt which, I 
 suppose, will last all my life. 
 
 Dressed in my best mourning, therefore, I 
 sallied forth in state, drawn by the redoubtable 
 Hawkins, to call on Mrs. Meade. Things look 
 different in the morning light from what they 
 did overnight : the shadows fall all the other 
 way. I remember spoiling a pencil sketch by 
 forgetting this. It is curious, too, that we 
 should wake with different impressions from 
 those with which we fell asleep ; especially 
 if we have not, consciously, been dreaming : but 
 so it is. I had fallen asleep sanguine ; I awoke 
 sober, serious, and rather depressed. 
 
 I now felt a presentiment that John would 
 not help us, contenting himself with a few kind 
 speeches; and that a school we should keep, 
 and find it very up-hill work. But I kept these 
 presentiments to myself; because my sisters
 
 Poplar House Academy, 45 
 
 might have their presentiments too, and they 
 seemed to be of a more cheerful description. 
 Jacintha's smiles predominated over her sighs, 
 as she prepared for her visit to her favourite 
 friend; and Marian talked like a sage and a 
 saint. 
 
 Jacintha's choice of an intimate, it must be 
 told, was not accordant with my judgment. 
 Mrs. Forsyth had been known to me in her 
 unmarried days, though not well known till 
 long after I had fancied myself possessed of her 
 character. She came once to pay us a long 
 visit, when we lived near London. We were 
 friends when she came into the house ; we were 
 not friends when she went out of it. Neither 
 were we foes; we were simply acquaintance. 
 I do not think it necessary to fall into rages at 
 every fresh instance of hollowness, weakness, 
 or treachery ; but friendship is a sacred thing, 
 and I cannot entertain or profess it for any one
 
 46 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 whom I find dangerously weak, or hollow, or 
 treacherous. 
 
 Jacintha's experience of her had not been 
 mine, and there was no need to rob her of a 
 friend, because I had lost one. Mrs. Forsyth 
 gave very nice little music-parties, and Jacin- 
 tha's voice was in request at them, so that the 
 intercourse was pleasant to both. 
 
 As for Marian's crony, Mrs. Christmas, she 
 was, emphatically, " a good old body," and no- 
 thing more. If a person were but good, Marian 
 never considered their worldly insignificance : 
 her thoughts were not of theirs, but of them. 
 
 Well, — /thought myself far more discerning 
 in the choice of a counsellor and confidant 
 than either of my sisters ; and I think so still. 
 Nevertheless, my heart was heavy as Hawkins 
 jolted me along; and when I reached Mrs. 
 Meade's large, quiet old mansion, which stood 
 within a paved court, at the other end of
 
 Poplar House Academy. 47 
 
 the town, I was as tired and depressed as 
 could be. 
 
 She was painting a primrose from nature 
 when I went in. Though fifty years of age, 
 she kept up her acquirements — not for display, 
 but from pure love of their exercise. It was 
 not often that I mustered energy to reach 
 her j consequently, as her own health was deli- 
 cate, we had not met for some time, and she 
 heard me announced with surprise. She put 
 down her brush in the middle of a wash, with- 
 out minding a hard line, hastened to me and 
 affectionately kissed me, and led me to a 
 chair: then asked, with kind solicitude, how 
 I was. 
 
 The Meades were in a superior position to 
 our own, and did not visit in the same circle. 
 Hence we saw less of them than we should 
 otherwise have done ; and though there was no 
 pride in Mrs. Meade, and I felt a kind of
 
 48 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 instinctive persuasion that we were kindred 
 souls, Jacintha, though invited to some of 
 their grand parties, was a little afraid of them. 
 This feeling, in the present instance, was ex- 
 perienced by myself; I knew not how to 
 begin, and, after answering kind inquiries con- 
 cerning our health, a pause ensued. 
 
 I said, " I fear you must think it very odd I 
 should call so early." 
 
 " Oh, no," said she kindly, " I am glad you 
 have done so; because, later in the day, you 
 might not have found me at home." 
 
 " And I particularly wished to find you at 
 home, — and disengaged," said I, after another 
 effort. 
 
 " I am quite disengaged," said she. " What 
 is there I can do for you ?" 
 
 My throat swelled. I said, "Perhaps you 
 will be kind enough to give me a little advice." 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes," said she cheerfully, " people are
 
 Poplar House Academy. 49 
 
 generally ready to do that : the only unreadiness 
 they show is in taking it — not such people as 
 you, though/ ' added she, seeing my lip quiver. 
 
 "We are placed in rather trying circum- 
 stances, just now," said I ; " and we don't see 
 our way quite clearly." 
 
 " I am sure, then, I will help you, if I can," 
 said Mrs. Meade. " What is it ?" 
 
 " That's just what I find it so hard to tell 
 you ! " said I : a tear rolled down my cheek, 
 and I could not at that moment get out 
 another word. 
 
 " Take time, take time," said she softly, and 
 pressing my hand in hers. 
 
 " My father — " began I, and stopped. 
 
 " We are great troubles to our fathers, 
 sometimes," said she, with a little smile and 
 a sigh, "and our fathers are sometimes trials 
 to us. Mine, you know, was quite out of his 
 mind long before he died." 
 
 E
 
 50 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " That was a heavy affliction/' said I. 
 " Perhaps you may not consider mine so heavy, 
 but yet I feel—" 
 
 " That the burthen of it is just now beyond 
 your strength. Well, a burthen is often found 
 too heavy for one, that is easily carried by 
 two ; and who knows but that before we part, 
 I may help you to carry yours before God — 
 and there leave it?" 
 
 Oh what a comforter that woman was ! 
 There was something in her tone, in her look, 
 in her known character for sympathy and 
 piety; but there was something in the words 
 and thoughts themselves that contained good. 
 
 I asked her if she knew what my father had 
 done. To my great surprise she did not : for 
 I had fancied it must be known to all the 
 world — at any rate, to our little world, in the 
 length and breadth of it. But she assured me 
 it was otherwise, and that people often give
 
 Poplar House Academy. 5 1 
 
 themselves unnecessary sorrow by fancying 
 family scandals circulated much more widely 
 than is the case. u And even when they do 
 circulate/' she added, " how often people live 
 them down ! " 
 
 So then my tongue was unloosed; and I 
 told her, quite composedly, all that had hap- 
 pened — a tear now and then straying down my 
 cheek. 
 
 She was greatly moved : I saw her eyelids 
 quiver with emotion. She took my hand, 
 kissed me, and sat quite quiet a little while. 
 
 " This is a crisis in your aifairs," said she, 
 at length. " It is difficult to see plainly how 
 to act. It seems to call for reference to a 
 higher Power. Would you like to unite with 
 me in prayer V 
 
 " Beyond all things \" I exclaimed. On 
 which she rose, locked the drawing-room door, 
 knelt down, and uttered a most fervent and 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUWOIS 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
 
 52 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 suitable prayer — I kneeling too, and softly re- 
 peating every word of it after her. It seemed 
 to me that God, at that moment, knit our two 
 hearts in one. 
 
 After that we talked the subject over quite 
 calmly. I laid before her the exact state of 
 our finances, without any reserves : she agreed 
 with me, that unless John undertook to pro- 
 vide for us, we must do something for our- 
 selves, and she thought a school would have 
 many advantages, because it would enable us 
 to keep together. She thought there was a 
 very good opening for one where we were; 
 that our house was well adapted for the pur- 
 pose; that our characters and talents were 
 such as promised success, and that she should 
 very likely be able to procure us two or three 
 pupils. 
 
 When she had said this, she unlocked the 
 door, left the room, and presently returned
 
 Poplar House Academy. 53 
 
 with a little salver, on which were a glass of 
 calfs-foot jelly and a meringue. 
 
 " You really must take this/' said she cor- 
 dially : a we are going to have a little party 
 to-night (not of persons your sisters know or 
 would care for, or I should have asked them), 
 and our cook makes very nice jelly, as I hope 
 you will allow when you have tasted it." 
 
 The refreshment was acceptable, for, being 
 in weak health, I required to be helped along 
 with frequent little restoratives. When I had 
 partaken of it, and heard some more of her 
 cheering and christian words, I took leave of 
 her quite heartened, and proceeded to call on 
 Mrs. Cole. This was with Mrs. Meade's con- 
 currence, because she thought our plan would 
 not seem so wild and hopeless to my brother, 
 if we had any definite information on the 
 subject, to supply the place of experience. To 
 Mrs. Cole's I went, in too busy thought to
 
 54 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 attend much to the frequent jolts of my wheel- 
 chair over the rough stones. I believe I was 
 immersed in feeling rather than thought ; I 
 seemed to have been steeped in a warm bath 
 of the milk of human kindness. 
 
 But the common air feels very cold when 
 we step out of a warm bath ; and so it did 
 when I entered Mrs. Cole's chilly drawing- 
 room, where the fire had but been hastily 
 lighted when Hawkins rang the bell, and where 
 I waited an awful length of time before Mrs. 
 Cole sailed in, evidently in her best dress. 
 
 The room was in tip-top order, almost too 
 clean and French-polished : not a thing out of 
 place or in use. Everything looked stuck-up, 
 like the reception-room of an old-fashioned 
 schoolmistress. 
 
 My grandfather and grandmother had not 
 been intimate with Mrs. Meade, whom they 
 considered rather high and too serious; but
 
 Poplar House Academy. 55 
 
 many a cheerful rubber bad they played with 
 Mrs. Cole, who felt nattered by their cordiality, 
 and reciprocated every kindness. She would 
 have been equally sociable with us ; but 
 Jacintha — and, I am afraid, I — drew back, and 
 treated her rather distantly. We did not 
 think an acquaintanceship with her would be 
 quite in accordance with good taste. I don't 
 feel quite sure, now, that our withdrawal from 
 
 it was. 
 
 Be that as it might, directly she could do 
 
 anything for us, you see, I went to her ; which 
 showed an instinctive perception that there 
 was something worth having in her, after all. 
 But, when she sailed in, she looked by no 
 means overpowered by the honour of my call, 
 and sat up very stiff and stately, looking as 
 much as to say, " To what am I indebted for 
 the honour of this visit ? " 
 
 I knew this would not do at all. If any
 
 56 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 coolness existed between us, I should get no 
 good out of her; and I was determined to 
 derive some good from her if I could. So I 
 said — 
 
 "Mrs. Cole, ill news travels fast, and per- 
 haps you have heard some of us. Have you?" 
 
 "No/' said she, pricking up her ears and 
 looking excited. " What is it ? M 
 
 Then I told her. She was very much sur- 
 prised, and said she was very sorry too. I 
 think she was, though not like Mrs. Meade. 
 It was humane, not sympathetic pity. 
 
 " Dear me, dear me, this is very sad," said 
 she, stroking down her nice silk dress. "At 
 your time of life, my dear madam, and in weak 
 health, too, you ought to have nothing to 
 harass you. And then there's Miss Jacintha 
 not married yet, though a very fine woman; 
 and Miss Marian coming on, too. Dear me, 
 dear me ! "
 
 Poplar House Academy. 57 
 
 " Mrs. Cole/' said I, " we are not going to 
 make unreasonable demands on the compassion 
 of our friends, but to put our own shoulders to 
 the wheel." 
 
 " That's right, my dear ma'am ; but in what 
 way?" 
 
 " Well, we have been talking it over among 
 ourselves, and certainly the most tempting 
 plan seems to be that of which you, my dear 
 Mrs. Cole, have had no mean experience — 
 namely, opening a school. " 
 
 "A school!" cried Mrs. Cole, reddening 
 up : " surely that would be the last thing 
 Miss Jacintha would consent to ! She always 
 appeared to me to entertain the utmost con- 
 tempt for even successful heads of such esta- 
 blishments retired on their fortunes ! " 
 
 "I am sure I am very sorry if Jacintha's 
 manner has ever expressed this," said I, hastily, 
 knowing very well that she cherished the feeling.
 
 58 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Oh, let that pass, my dear madam — if 
 offence was meant, none was taken, I can 
 assure you ! " replied Mrs. Cole, drawing up 
 her short neck very majestically. " Old Mr. 
 and Mrs. Edmonstone were very worthy peo- 
 ple — exceedingly so ; and I had a great regard 
 for them, and would have had pleasure in 
 being attentive to their grand-daughters, had 
 the feeling been mutual. As it is, I can only 
 wish them every success ! — every success I" 
 
 "That is most kind and cordial of you," 
 said I, " and I am sure that my dear grand- 
 father, were he alive, would rejoice to hear 
 you say so, and feel every kindness to us as 
 done to himself." 
 
 " Very probably he would, Miss Middlemass; 
 for he was a very excellent man, and quite the 
 gentleman. Many a rubber have we played 
 together." 
 
 "And very fond he was of getting you for
 
 Poplar House Academy. 59 
 
 his partner, Mrs. Cole/' said I ; " for he always 
 said you knew how to make the hest of a good 
 hand." 
 
 " Well, that was truly said, and hand- 
 somely said," returned Mrs. Cole, compla- 
 cently; "quite like one of his kind speeches. 
 This business of yours, my dear madam, would 
 have vexed him sadly." 
 
 u There can be no doubt of that," said I. 
 "1 am glad he has been spared it; but yet, 
 had he been alive, we should neither have 
 wanted a protector nor a home." 
 
 " That's true enough," said Mrs. Cole ; 
 "but now that he is no more, and your father 
 has behaved so shamefully badly, your brother, 
 I should say, is your natural guardian and 
 protector." 
 
 " True," said I, " but we do not like to 
 be burthensome to him if we can provide for 
 ourselves. There will be nothing to blush for
 
 60 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 in that , I think. And if any of our summer- 
 day friends incline to drop us in our adver- 
 sity, we can very well spare them/' said I, 
 with spirit. 
 
 " Right, right ! I quite agree with you, 
 Miss Middlemass," said Mrs. Cole, waxing 
 cordial ; ' c and anything I can do, I am sure, 
 in the way of recommendation and patronage, 
 I shall be most happy to volunteer, for the 
 sake of good old Mr. Edmonstone. It will, 
 doubtless, go much against the grain with Miss 
 Jacintha." 
 
 " We must all make the best of it," said I ; 
 "and the patronage and recommendation you 
 speak of, will be highly valuable and gratefully 
 received. Indeed, some practical details from 
 you, on a subject of which I profess myself 
 lamentably ignorant, will be most acceptable 
 to me." 
 
 "Well, then, my dear Miss Middlemass,"
 
 Poplar House Academy, 61 
 
 said Mrs. Cole, warmly, and drawing her chair 
 closer to me as she spoke, "let us go into 
 it thoroughly at once. I can tell you all the 
 routine, all the trials, all the difficulties, from 
 first to last. You'll find it a precious worry, I 
 can tell you. Under the most auspicious cir- 
 cumstances, scholastic tuition is a very great 
 plague; and, ten chances to one, you won't 
 make it answer. You see you've had no expe- 
 rience, my dear ma'am! — not even having 
 been at school yourself. Things are carried 
 on as differently in a private family, from what 
 they are in a large establishment, as it is possi- 
 ble to conceive. Oh, if you knew what my 
 responsibilities have been ! and anxieties ! and 
 trials ! I am sure you would be ready to give 
 it up in despair ! M 
 
 And then she began her details, which were 
 very wordy, very desultory, and, in many re- 
 spects, very disheartening. One thing was
 
 62 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 certain, however, — she had retired on a good 
 fortune. But, then, as she said, she had had 
 a good training, good connections, and good 
 luck. We might have the last, — we certainly 
 had not had the first, — and it remained to 
 be proved what our connections would do 
 for us. 
 
 With her permission, I took out my tablets. 
 Warming with her subject, she gave me the 
 most useful details of the daily minutiae of 
 housekeeping for a large school, the consump- 
 tion of food, the arrangements with trades- 
 people and laundresses. We had a good laun- 
 dry and mangle, and she advised me to have a 
 laundry-maid in the house. As she was re- 
 puted to have kept a liberal establishment, I 
 thought many of her arrangements rather 
 mean, and probably demurred a little at them 
 in my countenance, for she quickly said — 
 
 " Not mean — only close : and you must
 
 Poplar House Academy. 63 
 
 shave close if you keep a school and make it 
 
 answer." 
 
 I bowed, and went on with my notes. Then 
 came the schoolroom routine — teachers, mas- 
 ters. Her account now become narrative in- 
 stead of didactic, and my pencil was laid aside. 
 My hair stood on end (metaphorically) at her 
 relations of refractory, nay, depraved pupils, 
 artful teachers, and no less wicked masters. 
 Her whole story seemed founded on the text, 
 "There is not one good, no, not one." My 
 heart sank when I thought of coping with such 
 finished specimens of villany; and when Mrs. 
 Cole triumphantly related how . she had sus- 
 pected this and foiled that, and unmasked 
 one and disgraced another, I felt that if I 
 were to play the same part, however success- 
 fully, I should be lowered in my own eyes; 
 and as for my sisters, it was not to be thought 
 of for a moment.
 
 64 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 I suppose my face grew longer and longer; 
 for she checked herself, and said, heaving an 
 apologetic sigh — 
 
 " Yes, my dear ma'am, it's all very sad and 
 very shocking ; but, then, there 's the comfort 
 that it does not all come on us at once. All 
 these melancholy cases I have been running 
 over, only occurred during a long course of 
 years, at considerable intervals from one 
 another ; and though none but such an esta- 
 blished character as mine could have survived 
 the obloquy occasioned by Miss Curlew, nor 
 any ingenuity, much short of supernatural, 
 have circumvented Monsieur Bougie, yet I 
 never knew of any similar cases quite as bad ; 
 and as for the daily worry and wear, why that 
 you must expect." 
 
 At this instant, the time-piece struck two. 
 She asked me to lunch with her, but I de- 
 clined, with thanks, assuring her we dined
 
 Poplar House Academy. 65 
 
 early, and apologising for having trespassed on 
 her time and kindness so unmercifully. She 
 said with great friendliness, that it was of 
 no consequence, heartily wished me success, 
 promised to do for us anything she could, and, 
 to wind up all, sent her compliments and con- 
 dolences to Miss Jacintha.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
 For the lesson thou hast taught, 
 That at the flaming forge of life 
 Our fortunes must be wrought ; 
 Ajid on its sounding anvil shaped, 
 Each burning deed and thought. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 Y mind was so busy, that the way home 
 appeared short. On reaching the house 
 I was sensible of very great fatigue, and felt I 
 must recruit and repose myself. I had no 
 opportunity of doing so, however, for Jacintha 
 met me at the drawing-room door with a woe- 
 begone face, and was too much pre-occupied 
 with her own experiences of the morning to 
 think either of my details or my fatigue. 
 
 M
 
 Poplar House Academy. 67 
 
 tc Oh, this plan will never do, Isabella/' said 
 she, as soon as I dropped on the sofa; "Mrs. 
 Forsyth says it will never do." 
 
 " Wait a little/' said I, hastily giving Haw- 
 kins my bonnet, shawl, and gloves to carry 
 away. "Now, what is it ?? 
 
 Meanwhile, Marian, radiant with smiles, had 
 looked in on us : had heard Jacintha's dis- 
 couraging exclamation, and seen my jaded 
 looks. Hastily saying, " How tired Isabella 
 is \" she had withdrawn, followed by Haw- 
 kins. 
 
 "Now then, what is it?" said I. And 
 Jacintha poured out her woes. Mrs. Forsyth 
 had been quite thunderstruck : Mrs. Forsyth 
 was quite against it, and sure it would not do at 
 all. We were not the sort of people to under- 
 stand such a thing or make it answer; we 
 should lose caste for nothing, forfeit our posi- 
 tion, lose old friends, make no new ones, get
 
 68 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 into debt, difficulty, and trouble. And large 
 tears rolled down Jacintha' s cheeks. 
 
 " Trust me for not getting into debt," said I. 
 " Mrs. Forsyth may drop us, but I am sure no 
 real friends will ; and whatever difficulties and 
 trouble we may meet with (we shall be sure of 
 them, whatever course we adopt,) we shall never 
 incur disgrace." 
 
 "What Isabella says is quite true," said 
 Marian, coming in with a cup of excellent 
 arrowroot for me : " you must have this, 
 Isabella; you require it, after your unusual 
 exertions. Jacintha, you really must not take 
 on this way, or you'll be the diet of worms \" 
 
 This set Jacintha off laughing ; and Marian 
 eagerly continued, "I've got a pupil !" 
 
 " You , you chit," cried Jacintha, amazed. 
 
 "Yes! Fanny Ward!" 
 
 Jacintha* s countenance fell : " Only a draper's 
 daughter," said she.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 69 
 
 " Yes, but he's a very good man, and a rich 
 one too ; and the best of it is that he will let 
 me have her at once, Jacintha, to practise 
 upon; just because he says he feels a kindness 
 for me, — us, I mean, — and will pay us full 
 terms from the very day she comes (that's 
 to-morrow), without waiting for the school 
 opening. And though she is to be paid for as 
 a boarder, she is only to be a day-scholar till 
 we begin in earnest, so that she will not be in 
 the way; and, whether the school comes to any- 
 thing or not, no harm will be done, and I shall 
 be getting my hand in nicely." 
 
 " I never heard such a thing in my life!" 
 said Jacintha, breathlessly. 
 
 " This comes, Marian, of your saving Fanny 
 Ward from being run over," cried I, "when 
 she could scarcely walk alone, and you your- 
 self were quite a child." 
 
 " I'd forgotten that," said Marian. " Oh no;
 
 70 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 it was so long ago, he must have forgotten it 
 too." 
 
 I was convinced he had not ; though I would 
 not say so again. At any rate, I was sure our 
 Heavenly Father had borne it in mind. 
 
 "Well," cried Jacintha, with spirit, "this 
 revives me. I feel I can go on again. At the 
 same time, tradesmen's daughters, as Mrs. 
 Forsyth expressly said, are not — " 
 
 "Dinner's on table, ma'am," said Hawkins. 
 
 The announcement was opportune. It put 
 an end to an anxious subject when we were all 
 rather overwrought ; and a good dinner put us 
 in a condition to resume it far more cheerfully. 
 I insisted on Jacintha' s taking a glass of wine, 
 though I was a water-drinker myself; and her 
 views of affairs in general before and after 
 dinner varied as much as mine had done night 
 and morning. 
 
 After dinner, we drew round the fire, dis-
 
 Poplar House Academy. 7 1 
 
 posed to be very confidential ; Jacintha peeling 
 walnuts. 
 
 "Well/' said I, "suppose we each tell our 
 stories, like people in a book. Marian, you 
 begin, you are the youngest." 
 
 " Well," said Marian, "I went straight to that 
 darling old Mrs. Christmas, whom I shall love 
 as long as I live. She was looking over some 
 bits of old yellow lace. She called me f my 
 dear/ took my hand in both her own, made me 
 sit down next the fire, and was so kind. I, — I 
 told her all about it ... . and the good old 
 soul cried, and kissed me, and talked over every- 
 thing ; and, when she heard we meant to keep 
 a school, ' That will be sure to answer ! ' cried 
 she; 'tell your dear good sisters to have no 
 fears; they will be sure to make it answer/ 
 And oh, Isabella and Jacintha ! — she praised 
 both of you so much. f Whatever you do/ said 
 she, ( will prosper, for the blessing of the Lord
 
 j 2 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 will be on you ! You've been kind to other 
 people in their troubles, and now other people 
 will be kind to you. So clever as Miss Jacin- 
 tha is, and such a superior woman as Miss 
 Middlemass is, people will delight in sending 
 their daughters to you, in the fall confidence 
 you will do the best for them you can : and 
 when they find (as Fm sure they will find) 
 what a very superior education you give them, 
 why, there'll be quite a competition ! and you'll 
 be known all over the country ! you will 
 retire on handsome fortunes, and enjoy your- 
 selves all the remainder of your days ! — And, 
 my dear, — if you should meanwhile ever be 
 pressed for a little ready money, apply to me, for 
 ten, for twenty, or for thirty pounds, according 
 as you want it. More than that I don't keep 
 in the house, and must send to the bank for ; 
 but, as far as that goes, you may always apply 
 to me without the least scruple, because I 
 always have it by me.' "
 
 Poplar House Academy. 73 
 
 1 < To think of that ! " said Jacintha. " Good 
 old soul ! It really was very kind of her." 
 
 "Very kind indeed/' said I. "Go on, 
 Marian." 
 
 "So then," said Marian, " she sent over for 
 Mr. Ward, who, you know, is her son-in-law ; 
 and, while he was being fetched, she turned 
 over in her mind all the people she could think 
 of who might help us to pupils. Mr. Ward 
 came over at once, though it was close on his 
 dinner-hour. ' Sam/ said she, f the Miss Mid- 
 dlemasses, poor dears ! are just now in family 
 affliction — which we need not enter upon at 
 present; and they have resolved to open a 
 school. Could not you send them Fanny V 
 1 Surely I could/ said Mr. Ward, with his eyes 
 as bright as beads, f if Miss Marian will but 
 make her like herself ' (which was only his 
 way of putting it, you know) . ( I would give 
 half the money I have realized/ continued he,
 
 74 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 cordially, ' if you would turn her out just such 
 another as you are : and, since I know that 
 cannot be, I shall esteem it a privilege to pay 
 the best terms, whatever they are, for you to 
 make the best of her you can/ " 
 
 "Very handsome indeed," said Jacintha. 
 " I only wish — " 
 
 " So, then," pursued Marian, " I told him 
 nothing was settled yet, and that the whole 
 scheme, even, might come to the ground ; but 
 that, as it might not, I should be very glad to 
 acquire a little practice without loss of time, 
 and should wish to begin lessons with Fanny 
 at once, to which he cheerfully consented, say- 
 ing she would be better here than at-home." 
 
 ft Well," said Jacintha, ' c it seems a curious 
 plan; but you have arranged it all now, and 
 could not very well disappoint those who have 
 behaved so kindly. I only wish the man were 
 not—"
 
 Poplar House Academy. j$ 
 
 ". Now, Jacintha, for your story," said I, 
 " for I am impatient to come to my own/' 
 
 " Oh, you may tell yours first," said Ja- 
 cintha. " In fact, Fve none to tell." 
 
 So then I spoke warmly, but in general 
 terms, of Mrs. Meade's kindness and sym- 
 pathy; and then went on to Mrs. Cole. They 
 were both very much interested in my details. 
 
 " Come, this is practical," said Jacintha, at 
 last. " I begin, for the first time, to see our 
 way clearly. As for difficulties, I don't care a 
 straw for them ; in fact, I shall rather like them. 
 There will be glory in overcoming them." 
 
 11 1 would rather not have any," said I ; 
 " but I do not fear to face them." 
 
 1 ' Nor I," said Marian. ' ( Now I may go to 
 work with pen and paper in real earnest. All 
 my estimates of last night are good for no- 
 thing. Let me put everything down, Isabella, 
 while you have it so clearly in your head."
 
 76 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 I thought it a good plan; and dictated to 
 her, resting on my sofa, while Jacintha listened 
 and ate her walnuts, sometimes making a 
 remark. 
 
 Our united opinion was, that Mrs. Cole had 
 afforded us an admirable skeleton of school 
 routine, but that it was too much on the old 
 narrow-minded system; that we might with 
 advantage adhere to the general outline with- 
 out crippling ourselves by the individual de- 
 tails; and that if we did but turn out nice, 
 intelligent, pure-minded, well instructed girls, 
 the method of doing so might be safely en- 
 trusted to our own tastes and abilities. This 
 was a very satisfactory arrangement to us all ; 
 because each had little crotchets of our own, 
 which we had long been fond of enlarging 
 upon in theory, which we should now have 
 the opportunity of putting into practice; and 
 each was generously ready to allow her neigh-
 
 Poplar House Academy, yy 
 
 bours their hobby if she had the free exercise 
 of hers. 
 
 It was getting quite dusk, and Marian was 
 obliged to give up writing, while Jacintha 
 drew the crimson curtains across the windows 
 and stirred the fire, but did not ring for 
 candles. 
 
 1 ' I wonder — " Marian was beginning, when 
 the house-bell was rung loudly. We exchanged 
 a quick look in silence. 
 
 The next minute the door opened, and a tall 
 figure stood in the doorway, draped in a large 
 blue travelling cloak, flung over one shoulder. 
 
 " It 's John ! I knew it was ! " cried Ma- 
 rian, starting up. 
 
 He hastily closed the door, advanced, em- 
 braced each of us with emotion, and then sat 
 down and covered his face with his hands. 
 
 Poor John ! We were all very much 
 touched.
 
 j 8 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " This is a bad business," said he, drying 
 his eyes. " My poor sisters ! What a blow 
 this must have been to you ! And / away ! 
 — Shocking ! shocking ! " 
 
 " It must have been a great shock to you/' 
 said I. 
 
 " Oh, terrible, terrible ! " said he. " I was 
 quite unprepared for it. I could not have 
 thought it of the old gentleman." 
 
 John, up to this time, had always been 
 accustomed to speak of my father with out- 
 ward respect, though now and then he would 
 lightly term him the " governor ;" but now he 
 sunk him at once and for a permanence, in 
 his vocabulary, into " the old gentleman." 
 
 "Well, my poor sisters," said he, clearing 
 his throat, " what do you mean to do ?" 
 
 " We have been thinking it over, John," 
 said I, " and we do not mean to be burthen- 
 some to you. 33
 
 Poplar House Academy. 79 
 
 "As for that," said he, shrugging his 
 shoulders, " I must take what is sent me ; for 
 you can't possibly live on a hundred and fifty 
 pounds a year, Fm afraid." 
 
 " No/' said I, " I don't think we could." 
 
 " At any rate, not in this house/' said he, 
 looking about him ; ' ' nor in the way I should 
 wish my sisters to live. No; this poor old 
 house, I fear, must go. I was thinking about 
 it on my way down. It will let, I should 
 think, for a hundred and fifty pounds a year." 
 
 " Oh dear no, John, not even if we went to 
 the expense of putting it into what auctioneers 
 and appraisers call 'good, tenantable repair.' 
 The old furniture looks very well, all in its 
 place, but if pulled out of it would fetch next 
 to nothing of a broker, while the old walls, 
 window-frames, and floors would look miser- 
 able. Even Mr. Duke's house, which, you 
 know, is better and more modern than this, 
 only lets for a hundred a year."
 
 80 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " But might not you let this house fur- 
 nished, as it stands?" said John, after a 
 moment's pause — " Say at eight guineas a 
 week." 
 
 "Oh, who would give it, John? This is 
 
 not a fashionable watering-place : it has not a 
 
 single attraction for strangers : there are no 
 
 mineral waters, no show-houses — it is not one 
 
 of those places that have what is called their 
 season." 
 
 " That's true," said John, ruefully ; " I 
 wish it were. Then, I suppose the best plan 
 will be to sell the old place and take a smaller. 
 You might add something to your income 
 thus." 
 
 Jacintha was going hastily to answer ; but 
 I gave her a little look, and continued to be 
 the spokeswoman. 
 
 " Say we made it up two hundred pounds," 
 said I, "or a little over — that, with house-
 
 Poplar House Academy, 8 1 
 
 rent and taxes deducted from it, would not 
 leave us much." 
 
 " But, my dear Isabella, what do you 
 want?" cried John, hastily. "What is the 
 smallest sum you think you can live upon? 
 Three hundred a year ? Very well : turn over 
 this old house and its belongings to me to 
 make the best of, and I will guarantee you the 
 three hundred a year, your allowances inclusive." 
 I am now inclined to think this was a 
 very kind offer of John's ; it was one that, I 
 believe, we should have been grateful for, 
 when our position first broke upon us, and 
 before we thought of the school. But, at the 
 time it was made, we did not feel it so ; I saw 
 Jacintha's head jerk, and even the gentle 
 Marian look injured. We thought John was 
 going to obtain the credit of being very gene- 
 rous to us, and the power of being very arbi- 
 trary with us, at an almost nominal price. 
 
 G
 
 82 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " No, no, my dear John," said I, " this is 
 a misfortune which you share in common with 
 us all, and we have quite determined not to he 
 burthensome to you." 
 
 " How can you help it?" said he, knitting 
 his brows a little. 
 
 " By doing something for ourselves." 
 
 ' ' What can you do ? " 
 
 " Keep a school." 
 
 " Not to be thought of ! " cried he, with 
 indignation and disgust. " My sisters keep a 
 school ! " 
 
 " But, John — " cried Jacintha, hotly. 
 
 "But, John," said Marian, winningly, and 
 twining her arm within his as she looked up 
 into his face, "just hear Isabella out. You 
 cannot think how nicely she has arranged it 
 all. Just hear her." 
 
 " What can any of you know of school- 
 keeping ?" said he, very gruffly. "There is
 
 Poplar House Academy. 83 
 
 not a subject on which you are, all of you, 
 more profoundly ignorant." 
 
 " We were so, I grant you," said I, " and 
 we are wholly without experience ; but, since 
 it has become a matter of consideration among 
 us, I have made it my duty to seek practical 
 information of a lady experienced in tuition, 
 who has retired on a good fortune." 
 
 ( ' Humph ! " said John, still very gloomy. 
 ct And what does she say V % 
 
 11 She says," replied I, " that this house is 
 better adapted for a school than for any other 
 purpose;" and I gave him a general outline of 
 our scheme, embellished with sundry business- 
 like statistics ; not a little encouraged by the 
 approval which beamed, almost too visibly, in 
 my sister s' eyes. 
 
 John was convinced. He held out awhile ; 
 and demurred about one thing and another ; 
 but gradually was overcome by argument and 
 persuasion, and yielded the point very hand-
 
 84 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 somely. Tea a la fourchette was introduced 
 forthwith for his refreshment ; he enjoyed the 
 meal, praised everything, told Hawkins she 
 grew younger every year, complimented Ja- 
 cintha on her good looks, and had many a 
 pleasant word for me and Marian. 
 
 Altogether, it was a very grateful conclu- 
 sion of a trying day. After tea, we again 
 gathered round the fire, and discussed in a 
 very harmonious, leisurely way, all that we 
 had previously spoken of in haste and emo- 
 tion j recapitulating what we had felt, and 
 what we had feared, and what we had sus- 
 pected, with a great deal more verbosity than 
 would be tolerable, except in a sympathizing 
 family circle. At length, when we seemed 
 completely to have exhausted the subject, there 
 was a pause ; and then John said — 
 
 u Fm going to surprise you all. What do 
 you think ? Fm going to be married ! u 
 
 It did surprise us. I suppose announce-
 
 Poplar House Acadeiny. 85 
 
 ments of this kind generally do. We were 
 wholly unprepared for it. What with his 
 whist-clubs, his madrigal-clubs, his white-bait 
 dinners, his drives in Hyde Park, &c., we had 
 learnt to consider him a confirmed bachelor. 
 We did not even know enough of his acquaint- 
 ance to be able to conjecture who the lady 
 might be ; and when he added, " To Miss Laura 
 Highworth," we were little wiser than before. 
 Of course it was an interesting subject to him — 
 and it was an interesting subject to us ; so 
 that he was secure of three good listeners 
 while he expatiated on the family, fortune, 
 and personal attractions of the happy fair. In 
 spite of his vivid colouring, which rather daz- 
 zled us at first, she did not appear to be so 
 formidably wealthy or well-born as to have a 
 right to consider it a scandal that her hus- 
 band's sisters should keep a school; on the 
 contrary, John talked of the expenses of mar-
 
 86 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 ried life and liberal housekeeping in a depre- 
 cating tone, that made me think he was 
 secretly glad to be well quit of the three hun- 
 dred a year guarantee, after having offered it 
 freely and handsomely. Each party was satis- 
 fied with their own bargain, and tolerably 
 satisfied with one another. Some of Miss 
 Laura Highwortlr's connexions, we afterwards 
 found, were not only commercial, but in trade. 
 This accounted for his merely saying, " Pooh, 
 pooh," to Jacintha's, " But, John, I think we 
 ought from the first to exclude tradesmen's 
 daughters." 
 
 " England is a nation of shopkeepers," said 
 he. " It might not do, even for us, to trace 
 our pedigree back too far : at any rate, I am 
 not aware we can carry it beyond our great- 
 grandfather ! "
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TTe sat and talked, until the night, 
 
 Descending, filled the little room ; 
 Our faces faded from the sight, 
 
 Our voices only broke the gloom. 
 TVe spoke of many a vanished scene, 
 
 Of what we once had thought and said ; 
 Of what had been, and might have been, 
 
 And who was changed, and who was dead. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 HOW tired I was that niglrt ! I had a sad 
 palpitation of the heart after I got to 
 bed, and feared I mnst ring some one up ; but 
 had just resolution enough to forbear. Of 
 course, I was glad of it, when the palpitation 
 had passed off ; and there is always a grand 
 satisfaction at some notable piece of life's 
 business being achieved, which even pain and
 
 88 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 weariness cannot deprive us of. It had been a 
 memorable day to us all. 
 
 Jolm slept in the house, but took leave of 
 us before we departed for the night. He was 
 to start at six o' clock in the mail, and I knew 
 I could not with prudence rise so early to see 
 him off. Marian, however, promised to do so ; 
 and Jacintha said something about it ; but we 
 all knew how to interpret speeches made by her 
 overnight, about early rising in the morning. 
 
 Jacintha and I were just ready for break- 
 fast when Marian returned, glowing with 
 exercise, from walking with John to the 
 "White Hart." 
 
 " Well," said we both, " you have seen him 
 off!" 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied she, gaily ; " he is gone 
 off in very good spirits." 
 
 " He is satisfied, then, with our plan ?" said 
 Jacintha, anxiously.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 89 
 
 "Well/' said Marian, dimpling, "he said 
 something very improper about it." 
 
 "What was it?" cried I. 
 
 "He said, 'he feared we might find it a 
 deuce of a worry .' " 
 
 Jacintha laughed. 
 
 " Very likely we may," said she. " Oh, I 
 shall not mind that. I feel equal to anything, 
 now that John supports us. What a differ- 
 ence it makes ! We were all ready enough to 
 say, ' Who cares for John ? i when we thought 
 he would be against us; but now that he is 
 for us, we find we care for him a good deal." 
 
 " I think his approaching marriage has had 
 a great effect upon him," said Marian. " He 
 says he is so thankful everything was settled 
 before this blow occurred. It might have 
 made all the difference." 
 
 "I wonder what sort of a person she is," 
 said Jacintha. " One would like to know."
 
 90 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Oh, John has very good taste/' said I ; "and 
 good judgment, too, when it is unbiassed." 
 
 Thus we chatted on, in high good-humour 
 with him, ourselves, and one another, till 
 breakfast was over. 
 
 After prayers, Jacintha retired to the draw- 
 ing-room to write letters and draw up an 
 advertisement. I remained in the dining- 
 room, where we were presently joined by 
 Fanny Ward. She was a nice, fair, frank- 
 looking, well-grown girl of eleven. I confess 
 I was curious to observe how Marian would 
 begin with her, but feared my presence would 
 be rather a restraint to both. I therefore 
 made a show of rising to carry my work into 
 the other room, saying, "I am afraid I shall 
 be in the way if I stay here ; " but Marian 
 replied, " Oh, no, if ive are not in your way ;* 
 and Fanny looked quite unconcerned. Down 
 I sat, therefore, again.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 91 
 
 "Now then, Fanny," said Marian, seating 
 herself beside her at the table, "first of all 
 I must find out what you can do, that I may 
 know what you cannot. Suppose we begin with 
 writing. Here are pen, ink, and paper. Write 
 down what I shall dictate, — 
 
 ' Merrily sang the monks of Ely, 
 When Canute the king was rowing thereby.' 
 
 "Do you know who was King Canute, 
 Fanny?" 
 
 " No," said Fanny. " He is not in my list of 
 kings." 
 
 "Because your list of kings, probably, be- 
 gins with William the Conqueror. But there 
 were many kings of England, Fanny, before 
 he came to reign over us. Did you never hear 
 of the Saxons?" 
 
 She had heard of them. 
 
 Marian gave a brief synopsis of the history
 
 92 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 of England from the earliest times to the days 
 of Canute, to which Fanny listened with 
 mute attention. Then she looked at the 
 writing. 
 
 " It is not very well done/' said Fanny. 
 
 " Never mind. What I wanted was to see 
 your spelling." (Ha! thought I.) " Where 
 is Ely, Fanny?" 
 
 Fanny could not say. 
 
 "Ely is in Cambridgeshire. Open that atlas. 
 Turn to the map of England. Find Cam- 
 bridgeshire. Find Ely. Yes, there it is. 
 There was a famous monastery there in the 
 time of Canute. He, and Emma, his queen — 
 go on writing — were very fond of going there 
 to stay with the good monks. Do you know 
 what monks are ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "One year, at the Festival of the Purifi- 
 cation, the rivers and marshes were frozen
 
 Poplar House Academy. 93 
 
 over, and the king's courtiers tried to dissuade 
 him from going to keep the festival at Ely, 
 telling him the ice would not bear him. 
 'Well/ said he, f I do not think it can be 
 so thin but that it will bear me, who am light 
 and thin, if I go on foot ; and I am resolved to 
 try, if any one of you will but go first to show 
 me the way/ None of the courtiers much 
 relished this proposal; however, an Ely man, 
 who stood by, and who was nicknamed Pud- 
 ding, because he was so fat, cried, f Fll go 
 before you, my lord king, with all the pleasure 
 in life ! ' ' Forward, then, man ! ' cried Canute, 
 laughing; and they passed safely across, the 
 courtiers, ashamed and frightened, picking 
 their way after them. Then said the king, 
 f You, Pudding the fat, shall henceforth be 
 Pudding the free, and your descendants and 
 your lands shall be free for ever! So now, 
 laugh and grow fatter ! ' " 
 
 u I like that story," said Fanny, when her
 
 94 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 pen had hastily scribbled it to the conclu- 
 sion. 
 
 " Of course/' said Marian, looking it over. 
 "Ah, Fanny, here is some bad spelling this 
 time. Correct this, and this, and this. That 
 is right. Canute died in the year 1034. How 
 long is that ago ? Don't do it in your head, 
 but on paper. Don't you know how? Sub- 
 tract it from this present year. That is right. 
 If the distance from York to Ely were a hun- 
 dred and twenty miles, and Canute travelled 
 from one to the other at the rate of thirty 
 miles a day, how long would he be on the 
 road V 
 
 In this way, Marian went on, sounding the 
 shallow depths of little Fanny's knowledge in 
 every imaginable direction, with a practical 
 simplicity that to me was surprising and inte- 
 resting. Jacintha entered in the midst, to 
 speak to me; listened for a minute to what 
 was going on, arched her eyebrows and gave
 
 Poplar House Academy, 95 
 
 me a droll look, and went away. The two con- 
 tinned so indefatigably engaged in one thing 
 after another, that at last I felt called on to 
 say, "Well, now I think yon have both done 
 enough for the first morning, and Fanny had 
 better take a run round the garden." 
 
 Both looked sorry; but the books were 
 instantly cleared away, and Fanny, venturing 
 to lay her hand on Marian's arm, said, "Won't 
 you come too?" in so winning a way, that 
 Marian instantly answered, "To be sure I 
 will •" and was off with her the next moment. 
 
 "Dear me," said Jacintha, looking out at 
 them from the window, " I am afraid Marian is 
 permitting too much familiarity in that child. 
 They are now having a game of les graces. And, 
 if you observed, Fanny addressed her without 
 saying c ma'am/" 
 
 "Yes," said I, "my dear Jacintha, this 
 advertisement will do extremely well. We
 
 96 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 must get Mr. Price to place it in a prominent 
 position in our county paper. The circular, 
 too, will do very well, I think, slightly abridged. 
 By the way, I see you have adopted ( the Misses 
 Middlemass I* " 
 
 " Yes ; " reluctantly said Jacintha ; " it 
 would not do, you know, to start with question- 
 able grammar. Do you think I have said too 
 much, then, in the circular ?" 
 
 "Rather too much. I will correct it in 
 pencil." 
 
 " Well, — yes — you have improved it. I will 
 take it at once to Mr. Price, and find how much 
 it will cost to have five hundred struck off." 
 
 " Two hundred. Suppose — nay, surely one 
 hundred — " 
 
 " Oh, that would be quite insufficient ; don't 
 let us do things by halves." And away went 
 Jacintha, rather pleased at the idea of seeing 
 herself in print.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 97 
 
 She had scarcely gone, when there was a 
 double knock; and Mr. Duncan was announced. 
 He was a very handsome man, a married man 
 of forty or thereabout ; an opulent tea-dealer, 
 and the first-cousin of our member. We were 
 not on visiting terms. 
 
 After a few polite preliminaries, "I have 
 called, Miss Middlemass," said he, " in conse- 
 quence of learning from my friend, Mrs. Meade, 
 that you are intending to open a school. I 
 cannot say how glad I shall be to avail myself of 
 the opportunity of placing under your care my 
 two little girls, who left their preparatory school 
 at Brighton this Christmas, in consequence of 
 an epidemic among the scholars. They have 
 been at home ever since, and are getting a little 
 undisciplined, but we do not wish them to return 
 to Brighton. We should prefer having them 
 nearer home. So that, if it meets with your 
 approbation — "
 
 98 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " You are very kind, indeed I" said I warmly. 
 
 " Why/' said he, hesitating a little, " I was 
 not quite sure whether you would be too exclu- 
 sive to admit the children of tradespeople ; I, 
 you know, am nothing but a tradesman." 
 
 "You, Mr. Duncan?" 
 
 " That's all," said he, with proud humility. 
 
 " You need have no misgivings," said I, u for 
 we have already accepted Mr. Ward's little girl 
 for a pupil." 
 
 "Oh," said he, with a little shade crossing 
 his brow. And I saw directly that he looked 
 down on Mr. Ward, though he would not have 
 liked us to look down on himself. 
 
 "Mr. Ward is a highly respectable man," 
 said he. 
 
 " And he has come forward so handsomely," 
 said I, " that we could not well refuse." 
 
 "Well, then, after the Easter holidays (if 
 you open so soon), we may look on the thing
 
 Poplar House Academy. 99 
 
 as settled/' said Mr. Duncan. " I shall leave 
 my wife to make minor arrangements. " 
 
 And after a little friendly chat, lie went away. 
 Then came Mrs. Meade. Her visit was a treat 
 to Marian as well as myself; Fanny having 
 gone home to dinner. She had scarcely left 
 us, when Mrs. Cole called. She was very 
 friendly indeed, though Jacintha might have 
 felt her patronizing; but sympathy was just 
 then so prized by me that I was not disposed 
 to be fastidious. 
 
 The news of our project was beginning to 
 creep out, though as yet it had spread but 
 little. This gave us leisure to digest our plans. 
 On the following Sunday, when I took my 
 accustomed place in our large, square, high- 
 backed pew, with its old oaken seats and faded 
 green hassocks and curtains, I could not help 
 sighing to think how soon its privacy would be 
 invaded by a set of restless young spirits, my
 
 ioo Poplar House Academy. 
 
 watchfulness over whose demeanour would sadly 
 detract from my devotion. The future trial 
 enhanced the present privilege ; and most fer- 
 vently did I pray for our strength and success : 
 not forgetting to seek a special blessing on the 
 young souls we were to educate for immortality. 
 Our advertisement had come out in the 
 Saturday's county paper, consequently we 
 were no longer private characters ; and we 
 felt a sort of consciousness, as our eyes met 
 those of other people, who, for aught we knew, 
 had seen our names in the public print, and 
 already canvassed our objects, motives, and the 
 chances of our success. We could not settle 
 to our Sunday reading that evening. Each 
 had her book — Jacintha her favourite Fenelon, 
 I my Leighton on St. Peter, and Marian her 
 little morocco-bound Bible ; but we were con- 
 tinually falling into snatches of talk, or yielding 
 to reverie.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 101 
 
 "After all, it is a very high destiny/ ' said 
 Marian pensively, " to train the young." 
 
 u Certainly it is," said I. H It gives the 
 bent to their future characters and lives." 
 
 " Then why are schoolmistresses slightingly 
 thought of?" 
 
 "Partly through the narrow-mindedness of 
 others," said I, " and partly through their own, 
 which prevents their taking a high view of their 
 vocation." 
 
 " I mean to take a high view of it." 
 
 " So do I." 
 
 " By the hye," cried Jacintha abruptly, " we 
 must have this room cleared out." 
 
 « Oh !— why ?" 
 
 " Who ever heard of a schoolroom furnished 
 in this way?" 
 
 1 ' I really see no supreme good," said I, " in 
 making girls more uncomfortable at school than 
 they are at home. What is there here they
 
 102 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 can spoil, or would wish or should be allowed 
 to injure? and where is the moral advantage 
 of carpetless, curtainless rooms ? We are not 
 going to bring up young Spartans, but young 
 ladies; and surely, ladylike habits may best 
 be cultivated amid the appliances of a lady's 
 home?" 
 
 "That never struck me/ 5 said Jacintha re- 
 flectingly, " but I think you are right. How I 
 wish I had put something about it in the pro- 
 spectus ! It would be almost worth while to 
 have a new set struck off. It would give an 
 air to the school, you see ! " 
 
 " Oh no, there is no need to have a new set, 
 nor to start with too much self-puffery. They 
 are sealed and directed, now, ready to send off 
 to-morrow." 
 
 At bedtime I perceived that Hawkins was 
 troubled. 
 
 w You do not look well this evening," said I
 
 Poplar House Academy. 103 
 
 to her, u I fear you have one of your bad head- 
 aches." 
 
 "Oh no, 'tis n't that," said she, applying 
 the corner of her apron to her eye, "though 
 my head does ache, 'tis true. But I've heard 
 something that gri-eves me ! They do say, 
 ma'am, below, that you and the ladies is going 
 to keep a school." 
 
 "Who say so ?" inquired I hastily. 
 
 " Mr. Perkins, ma'am, cook's father : he 
 says he 's seen it in print. But, there ! I told 
 him I could not believe it." 
 
 " It is true, however, my dear Hawkins, 
 though I would not say anything to you about 
 it sooner than I could help. We are all of a 
 mind about it, Mr. John and all ; and we feel 
 it our duty, and hope for the blessing of God 
 upon us in its performance. But if you, Haw- 
 kins, feel unequal to the stir and bustle of such 
 an increased household as ours is likely to be,
 
 104 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 I assure you that I shall not take it in the least 
 amiss of you if you say you should prefer seek- 
 ing a quieter place. At the same time, we will 
 make it as easy as we can for you ; extra help, 
 of course, we must have ; but you are so tried 
 and faithful a servant, that I confess to you I 
 shall feel, if you leave us, that we have sus- 
 tained a heavy loss." 
 
 " Bless you, I'm not thinking of going ! " 
 cried Hawkins. " That would be a pretty piece 
 of work ! Why, all you earned upstairs would 
 be wasted in the kitchen ! No, no. I'm very 
 sorry there's any occasion for such a thing; 
 but, since there is, why, all I can say is, I'll 
 do the best for ye I can, as I've always done 
 before ! " 
 
 This was most heartening to me, as I had 
 been sadly afraid of Hawkins taking alarm at 
 untried labours : and I slept all the more 
 quietly for the assurance of her allegiance.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 105 
 
 The next day, the important circulars were 
 issued; and, from that moment, we felt that 
 we had stepped forth from "the mild majesty 
 of private life" into the busy, bustling, striving 
 world. It seemed quite strange to us, when 
 evening drew in, that the day had passed by 
 even more quietly than usual. It was so with 
 the next, and the next. Only Fanny Ward 
 invaded our privacy. Then letters of condo- 
 lence and inquiry began to arrive from Mends, 
 acquaintance, and strangers. Some promised 
 to be useful to us ; others feared we should get 
 into trouble ; and others offered impracticable 
 or unpalatable advice. All this was ordinary 
 enough. Then I found myself in correspond- 
 ence with persons I had never seen, about 
 details we had not yet decided on our- 
 selves, and was obliged to be very careful 
 not to commit myself. Mrs. Forsyth's feel- 
 ings were, doubtless, cruelly mangled by the
 
 106 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 advertisement and circulars of persons on her 
 visiting list ; but, when she found Mrs. Meade 
 had taken us up, she began to think it would 
 be good taste to do so to ; and she told Jacintha 
 she was making strenuous exertions to procure 
 us some very charming, aristocratic girls, who 
 would give a stamp to the school. She in- 
 quired whether any pupils were yet secured; 
 but her countenance fell when she heard the 
 names of Ward and Duncan; and she hoped 
 that we might not prove penny wise and 
 pound foolish in accepting them at any price. 
 A few days of silence intervened : then arrived 
 three diminutive sheets of rose-tinted note- 
 paper from Mrs. Forsyth to Jacintha. The 
 mother of the charming, aristocratic girls could 
 not think of their associating with tradesmen's 
 daughters. Our school must be unstamped. 
 
 " We may have taken a false step," said I, 
 thoughtfully, and returning Jacintha the letter.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 107 
 
 " It is impossible for us, as yet, to tell — I am 
 no leveller of artificial distinctions ; bnt yet I 
 cannot feel we have done wrong in availing 
 ourselves of the kindness of Mr. Ward and 
 Mr. Duncan." 
 
 u Time will show/' said Jacintha, gravely ; 
 and she was evidently depressed during the 
 remainder of the day. 
 
 Meanwhile, it would be difficult to decide 
 whether Marian or Fanny Ward were working 
 hardest or with the most zealous will. The 
 progress they were making was prodigious — 
 quite in an irregular way, as Jacintha justly 
 enough observed : but still the amount and 
 variety of knowledge Fanny was acquiring was 
 something amazing. 
 
 One afternoon Mr. TVard called on me — 
 his good-tempered face shining with pleasure. 
 
 " I really cannot forbear intruding on you, 
 Miss Middlemass," said he, "to express my
 
 108 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 gratification at the progress my little girl is 
 making. It's surprising ! ma'am — its perfectly- 
 surprising ! Mr. and Mrs. Duncan did us the 
 favour of dining with us in a friendly way 
 yesterday, and when they heard and saw what 
 Fanny was, and what she could do, they were 
 quite surprised and gratified. And it's not 
 only her head-knowledge, ma'am, though that's 
 something; — but Miss Marian can impart 
 Christianity, and gentleness, and good temper, 
 and good behaviour; and those are things, 
 ma'am, that I, a plain man, think quite as 
 much of as the use of the globes ! " 
 It was very encouraging.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my merry, merry, men, 
 Tor 'tis our opening day ! 
 
 Joanna Baillie. 
 
 THE grand, the important day, the opening 
 day, arrived. How many times did I go 
 into every room, look at each little white bed, 
 see that everything was as it should be, and 
 then return to my sofa, to remember something 
 I had forgotten, and repeat my round ! 
 
 Fanny Ward had arrived the previous evening, 
 as an inmate, — a privilege for which she had 
 been burning, — and already considered herself 
 an established resident. This girl had con- 
 ceived a strong affection for all of us, an intense 
 love for Marian; and it was difficult not to 
 reciprocate it, and to fancy her some young
 
 no Poplar House Academy. 
 
 kinswoman, whose credit and interests were 
 involved in the same concern. All the morning 
 she was assisting in various little arrange- 
 ments with the most pleasing alacrity, at every- 
 body's call, running on messages, upstairs, 
 downstairs, without the least obtrusiveness or 
 fuss. 
 
 " Jacintha ! where are my keys V* 
 " Here, Fanny ! run with these keys to Miss 
 Middlemass." 
 
 " Fanny ! Miss Marian is calling you." 
 " Oh, Fanny, do help me to carry away all 
 these old music-books. No! you can't carry 
 them all, they are too heavy — I will help 
 you." 
 
 Fanny, however, triumphantly bore them 
 off, and then returned for some other errand. 
 Now and then, I saw her arm slip round 
 Marian's waist. "The girls" — "the girls" — 
 were frequently in her mouth.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 1 1 1 
 
 " Fanny, you must call them young ladies. 
 And, remember, you must always henceforth 
 say ' ma'am/ even to me." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Good girl. Not broadly, you know, but 
 slightly, lightly." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " That's it. You are going to be my tame 
 elephant, you know, Fanny, and to teach the 
 others how to fall into the right ways. You are 
 not going to let them ever see the least insub- 
 ordination or indiscretion on your part." 
 
 " Certainly, I ain't," said Fanny, aggrieved. 
 
 " You must not say ( ain't,' Fanny." 
 
 "Bain't ?" said Fanny, pursing up her mouth, 
 and looking droll. 
 
 A pat was her rebuke : but a little smile 
 followed it. 
 
 "Oh no," said Fanny, very seriously. "I 
 only said that for fun, and I am never going to
 
 1 1 2 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 say such things when the others come. I will 
 not give you the least morsel of trouble, if I can 
 help it. I would rather save you a great deal ! 
 Only give me just a smile, or a kiss, or a pat, 
 now and then, when nobody is by." 
 
 "Well, I'll think of it, Fanny." 
 
 Seven pupils were expected. The first was 
 to come at about four o' clock, by the heavy 
 coach, from some distance. Fanny sat near 
 the window, anxiously watching for her, and, 
 at intervals, reading Jane Taylor's "Corre- 
 spondence between a Mother and a Daughter 
 at School," frequently expressing her intention 
 to be another Grace Dacre. 
 
 "Here comes Miss Unwin !" said she at last. 
 " Is there any reason, Miss Middlemass, why 
 we should not call one another by our Chris- 
 tian names?" 
 
 " Well — no, I think not," said I. 
 
 "Isabella!" said Jacintha in an undertone,
 
 Poplar House Academy, 113 
 
 "you really must leave off speaking in that 
 undecided way. { I think not/ will never do 
 for a schoolmistress!" 
 
 "True," said I; and, at the same instant, 
 Hawkins ushered in the new comer. 
 
 She looked formal and shy. Jacintha 
 and I received her with kindness; and then 
 Marian and Fanny carried her off to her 
 room. 
 
 In about an hour Marian returned, saying 
 she had left the two girls to get on together, 
 which they were doing very well, and that 
 Miss Unwinds ice was rapidly thawing under 
 Fanny's sociability. 
 
 Next came the two Miss Duncans, under 
 the escort of their pleasant father. He was 
 "quite sure we should find them very good 
 girls indeed, and that they would like school 
 very much ;" and while they, like Miss Unwin, 
 were carried off by Marian and Fanny, he
 
 114 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 remained to have a little sociable chat with 
 Jacintha and me. Jacintha was in good spirits, 
 and looking her best ; she was pleased by his 
 encouraging auguries, and told him that she 
 did not feel at all doubtful of success. " And 
 we are all going to be very comfortable to- 
 gether/' said she. "Just come and see, Mr. 
 Duncan, what a nice schoolroom we have pre- 
 pared for them." 
 
 We all three rose, and crossed the hall, and 
 she triumphantly threw open the door. 
 
 " This ! This the schoolroom ? M cried Mr. 
 Duncan, whose little girls had now returned, 
 and were nestling close to him. " Why this is 
 a palace ! and my little girls will think them- 
 selves princesses ! Why, this beautiful room 
 is replete with every comfort ! — and elegance 
 too ! Dear me, how surprised and delighted 
 mamma will be when I tell her. Well, girls, 
 I can only say, you must be very grateful to
 
 Poplar House Academy. 115 
 
 these kind ladies, and not give them one bit 
 of trouble yon can help. And now good-by, 
 darlings, and may God bless you ! " 
 
 A tear shone in the eyes of each little 
 girl as they saw him depart, but Fanny said 
 something cheerful to them the next mi- 
 nute, and presently they were summoned to 
 tea. 
 
 As they took their seats, and glanced round 
 with satisfaction at the nicely arranged tea- 
 table, on which our thin bread-and-butter and 
 my dry toast were flanked by currant buns 
 and very plain cake, for their young, healthy 
 appetites, I overheard one little girl whisper to 
 another with an eager smile, " Quite like a 
 party ! " 
 
 And they behaved as well as if it were a 
 party; and we all talked our full share, and 
 were very cheerful. After tea, I produced the 
 large folio engravings published with the first
 
 1 1 6 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 edition of Captain Cook's Voyages, and these 
 afforded entertainment for the rest of the 
 evening. 
 
 The other girls arrived late by the mail. 
 Poor children ! they looked so dreadfully 
 sleepy. Tea restored them a little, and we 
 then had the prayer-bell rung. Four servants 
 came in, the cook, laundry-maid, Hawkins, 
 and an under housemaid. I read the twenty- 
 third Psalm, and then prayed. A strong im- 
 pulse led me, instead of using a printed form, 
 to utter a short, fervent, extempore prayer, in 
 simple language, adapted to our immediate cir- 
 cumstances. I had never done such a thing 
 before, and my face glowed; but I felt it was 
 effective, and trusted it would be effectual. 
 I always did so thenceforth. When we rose 
 from our knees, Jacintha led the Evening 
 Hymn on the piano, and we all sang it. 
 The children looked surprised, impressed, and
 
 Poplar House Academy, 117 
 
 pleased; it was sweet to hear their young, 
 unsteady voices — 
 
 Humble though our efforts be, 
 
 And uutuneable the parts ; 
 God accepts the minstrelsy. 
 
 If it spring from grateful hearts. 
 
 Then I called them to me and kissed each of 
 them ; and Marian led them off to bed. When 
 she returned to supper, she said they had said 
 their prayers, and were all asleep. 
 
 "Thank God!" said I; "thank God this 
 day is well and happily over ! " 
 
 " Amen/' said my sisters. 
 
 ' c Isabella/'' said Jacintha, " how could you 
 have the courage to pray extempore ? M 
 
 " I had an odd kind of feeling when I had 
 once begun. I feared you might not like it, 
 but I resolved to go on." 
 
 ( ' I liked it very much ; only I wondered 
 how vou could."
 
 1 1 8 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " They all liked the singing," said Marian. 
 
 u We all like something in which we can 
 take onr own share/' said I; "it awakens 
 devotion and keeps it awake." 
 
 " The buns, also, were duly appreciated," 
 said Marian, laughing. 
 
 " I mean to have them once or twice a 
 week. It will give a little air of festivity to 
 the table, and save Hawkins the cutting so 
 much bread-and-butter." 
 
 e< We must take care not to pet them much 
 at first," said Jacintha, "or they will depend 
 on it afterwards." 
 
 (i Not too much," said I. " But dependence 
 on others' kindness, on reasonable grounds, is 
 no bad bulwark of mind and temper." 
 
 I would not go to bed, old maid that I was ! 
 without looking in on the little dears in their 
 snug beds. All were in rosy sleep, save one ; 
 she started, and hastily said, " Mamma ! "
 
 Poplar House Academy. 119 
 
 then, with a satisfied ' ' oh ! " closed her eyes 
 again, murmuring " it's just like home." She 
 could not have paid a greater compliment. 
 
 I lay down to rest, but not to sleep, with an 
 oppressive sense of responsibility. Most fer- 
 vently I prayed God to 
 
 Bless the house from nightly harm. 
 It seemed to me that no earthly insurance 
 was worthy of any dependence. I wondered 
 how parents of large families could sleep at 
 night, in a world where fire burns and thieves 
 break in. At length I remembered that they 
 had the same heavenly Friend whom I had been 
 seeking, and that He never fails his people. 
 
 It had already been decided, against my 
 will, that I was not strong enough to take 
 part in any of the proceedings before break- 
 fast. As a set-off against this, I had obtained 
 that we should all have our meals together. 
 None of us were epicures ; and the good, plain
 
 1 20 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 fare, and early hours, suited to our young 
 charges, were not unpalatable to us. As for 
 rest and quiet, none of us then thought of 
 needing either. We were buckling on our 
 armour, not laying it aside after a hard-fought 
 field. 
 
 They all came in fresh and rosy when the 
 prayer-bell rang. When they gathered round 
 the breakfast table I was surprised to find how 
 much had already been done. Jacintha had 
 given two music lessons, and Marian had had 
 a general Scriptural examination. And, after 
 this, they had found time for a healthy run 
 round the garden before the bell rang. 
 
 Marian had brought in a few hepaticas, which 
 she placed in water in the little room formerly 
 appropriated to my grandmother, and now my 
 morning room. When I had given my orders 
 for the day (which, having previously well 
 digested, gave me less trouble this first mom-
 
 Poplar House Academy. 121 
 
 ing than on many a subsequent one), I re- 
 turned to this room, and found a quiet little 
 girl copying the flowers in pencil. I gave her 
 a hint or two, and then returned to my sofa 
 and plain-work, of which there was still a 
 good deal in the way of table and bed-linen 
 to get through; and another little girl came 
 in to me and began to read Markhanr's " His- 
 tory of England." When she had read enough, 
 she changed with the other, and drew while 
 the first read, afterwards Marian fetched them 
 both away, and sent another to practise. I 
 must own to not being fond of hearing girls 
 strumming; however, it was all in the day's 
 work — a good deal of it, too ! And though 
 I could not sit up at the piano and give a 
 regular lesson like Jacintha, yet, having a 
 good ear, I could say, "my dear, B flat," or 
 " C sharp," and so forth, whenever I heard a 
 false note, or say, "you made that a crotchet
 
 122 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 instead of a quaver." This acted as a check, 
 and prevented the practising in the teacher's 
 absence from being the witless waste of time 
 it too often is. 
 
 When this girl and another had gone away, 
 Jacintha looked in on me for a minute, to say, 
 with interest — 
 
 "Well, how are you getting on ?" 
 
 "Very well. How are you?" 
 
 " Very well indeed. Really I rather like it. 
 They seem bright girls, and docile too. Have 
 you had too much practising ? " 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 " That's a good thing, because you are 
 going to have some more, while I give music- 
 lessons in the drawing-room. By the by, I 
 am getting very hungry." 
 
 " I dare say they are too. You shall all 
 have plain cake at twelve o'clock." 
 
 " Should not the children have bread ?"
 
 Poplar House Academy. 123 
 
 <c Well, we are not very fond of dry bread 
 ourselves, and cannot expect them to be. I 
 have made a very economical arrangement 
 with the baker ; the cakes are little more than 
 bread sweetened and slightly spiced; and we 
 are paid so handsomely for these children that 
 I do not wish to ' shave ' quite as closely as 
 Mrs. Cole recommended." 
 
 "You are mditresse-d' hotel," said Jacintha 
 with perfect good humour. 
 
 At three we dined. At four they all started 
 for a walk — Jacintha taking the lead with the 
 two eldest by a different route to a given point 
 from Marian, because she did not yet like 
 closing a boarding-school procession of two- 
 and-two. 
 
 I enjoyed the lull. My health was but what 
 Scotch people call " silly," and I was not yet 
 quite equal to the bustle of a large establish- 
 ment. But I " bated no jot of heart nor hope :"
 
 124 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 only I enjoyed the lull, that was all. And the 
 use I made of it was, firstly, to lie on the sofa 
 awhile, in perfect inaction, without thinking 
 particularly of anything ; then writing a cheer- 
 ful letter to John, telling him we had made a 
 brave beginning and were all doing wonders ; 
 and begging to be most kindly remembered to 
 his fair lady. (What bad grammar ' remem- 
 bered to 3 a person is !) Just as I had closed 
 my letter, I had the refreshment of a visit 
 from kind Mrs. Meade ; and then I summoned 
 Hawkins, and bade her draw me in my wheel- 
 chair along the laurels in the sun. 
 
 After the walkers returned, rosy and joyous, 
 fancy-work and French reading were the order 
 of the day. This gave repose to all ; and, as 
 they had brought home some wild-flowers, I 
 gave a botany lesson to a class of four. It is 
 not needful to go into more details of the day's 
 work; we all agreed afterwards that a great
 
 Poplar House Academy. 125 
 
 deal had been done and well done, at a mode- 
 rate cost of fatigue. Teachers and pnpils 
 were equally fresh at their work. We did 
 not have buns or cake this evening; but 
 the meal was equally pleasant ; nay, more so, 
 I think. I have often heard much inferior 
 table-talk in much superior circles. After tea 
 there were exercises to write, and arithmetical 
 questions to solve. Then came a historical 
 game, then prayers and "good night." Our 
 review of the day was very pleasant. I was 
 particularly amused at Fanny Ward's confiden- 
 tial whisper as she kissed me — " How well it 
 has gone off ! " 
 
 The next day there was variety in the les- 
 sons learnt and given, but there was equal 
 order and regularity. The weather was change- 
 able ; I therefore recommended a walk before 
 dinner instead of after, which was well, as they 
 secured a nice dry walk, and the afternoon set
 
 126 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 in wet. A good many lessons were got through 
 in the afternoon, and needlework was postponed 
 till the evening. I took even my sisters by 
 surprise by plates heaped with short-bread at 
 tea-time ; and afterwards, when I saw Jacintha 
 look round with rather a fatigued air, that 
 expressed, "Well, what must be done next?" 
 I said, " My dear Jacintha, if it is not asking 
 too much, I should very much like you to 
 oblige us with one of my favourite songs. 
 In attending so much to the practising of 
 others, you must not neglect practising your- 
 self." 
 
 Jacintha was pleased, and instantly complied. 
 The young auditors were struck by her brilliant 
 performance, and one or two drew near her. 
 It gratified her. "Come," said she, "why 
 should not we learn an easy glee ? f Five times 
 by the taper's light/ or ' Piano, pianissimo V" 
 A little choir was instantly organized : and after
 
 Poplar House Academy. 127 
 
 that, I had enough (I don't say too much) of 
 ' Where 's father ? ' ' He 's gone out to roam,' 
 
 and 
 
 1 Piano, pianissimo ! senza parlar.' 
 
 They soon learnt their separate parts very 
 nicely; and, thenceforth, glee-singing became 
 a favourite evening amusement. One of the 
 little Duncans made a droll mistake. She said, 
 " Why should their father go to Rome ?" 
 
 As Marian observed, instruction is not less 
 instructive for being entertaining. While the 
 glee-singers were gathered round the piano, the 
 needles of the others sped swiftly ; and some- 
 times one of them played a game of chess with 
 me — not quite worthy of being printed in the 
 Illustrated London News. 
 
 The following day was wet without inter- 
 mission. It was suitable, therefore, for a 
 dancing lesson; and Jacintha presided at the 
 piano while Marian was dancing-mistress.
 
 t 2 8 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 Marian had once had a winter's teaching 
 from the best of London dancing-mistresses, 
 whose name I need not mention. 
 
 In the evening we had reading alond and 
 working, instead of mnsic. The story was 
 Miss Edgeworth's ' ' Angelina ; or, L'Amie In- 
 connue," which produced a great deal of laugh- 
 ing, especially the chapters read by Marian, 
 who humorously gave the national accents of 
 the Welsh country-girl and Irish hackney- 
 coachman. I observed that the readers who 
 followed her copied her in this, and endea- 
 voured to produce the same effect. 
 
 At the end of a week, we seemed to have 
 kept school a month ; at the end of a 
 month, we seemed to have kept school three 
 months ; at the end of three months, we 
 seemed to have kept school a year. The 
 routine and discipline had become per- 
 fect : the children were healthy, happy, and
 
 Poplar House Academy. 129 
 
 making great progress; their teachers were 
 a good deal fagged, but kept on cheerily. 
 I found my liberal housekeeping certainly 
 threatened to diminish our profits, but not so 
 much so as to render it a matter of duty to 
 draw in. Sometimes Marian had bad head- 
 aches, which made her look very white; but, 
 otherwise, she seemed to have nothing to com- 
 plain of. Jacintha occasionally looked worn 
 and dispirited, but I whispered to her, ' ' Mid- 
 summer is at hand ! " and she cleared up 
 again, and went on nobly. 
 
 K
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 By what astrology of fear or Lope 
 Dare I to cast thy horoscope ? 
 Like the new moon thy life appears, 
 A little strip of silver light ; 
 And widening outward into night, 
 The shadowy disc of future years. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 ABOUT a month before the holidays,, Ja- 
 cintha received a very kind letter from 
 John, saying that he was going to be married 
 in five weeks, and that it was his bride's wish, 
 as well as his own, that Jacintha should be 
 bridesmaid, and accompany them on their 
 wedding excursion. This invitation was very 
 opportune : Jacintha both needed and deserved 
 relaxation after her indefatigable labours ; and
 
 Poplar House Academy. 131 
 
 the prospect of joining the wedding party 
 nattered her and raised her spirits. It reacted 
 on her daily exertions : never had the children 
 found her in better humour, and her cheerful- 
 ness pervaded the house. 
 
 John was gratified by the cordial letter of 
 thanks and acceptance ; and, by the next post, 
 sent her a twenty-pound note for her outfit, 
 saying that he did not feel justified in drawing 
 her into expenses she could ill afford, and only 
 wished he could make it more. By the same 
 post he inclosed me a thirty-pound note, to 
 take Marian and me to the sea-side, while 
 Jacintha was enjoying her gaiety ; paying us 
 some very gratifying compliments on our ex- 
 ertions and success. It was very kind and 
 handsome of John, from first to last. 
 
 We had been consulting what presents we 
 could make him on his marriage, and decided 
 on a very handsome though old-fashioned
 
 1 3 2 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 pendule, which we thought he would value, 
 because it had been our grandfather's. But, 
 now, we thought this would not be enough; 
 so, instead of the pendule, we decided on 
 sending him an Indian cabinet of five times 
 the value, a carved ivory pagoda, and one of 
 Marian's best water-coloured landscapes, nicely 
 framed. John was much pleased with these 
 presents. 
 
 And now began the pleasing bustle of pre- 
 paration for the holidays. The children were 
 naturally joyful at the idea of returning to 
 their homes ; yet I heard one of them whisper 
 to another, " If it were not for seeing mamma 
 and Freddy, I would just as soon stay here ! n 
 As for Fanny Ward, I am persuaded she was 
 sorry that breaking-up day was at hand. 
 
 Well — that notable day arrived in due 
 course : our young pets were all dispersed, 
 under proper charge, after very affectionate
 
 Poplar House Academy, 133 
 
 leave-takings; and we were once more left 
 in the old house by ourselves. How empty 
 it seemed ! We did enjoy our liberty, though! 
 and our rest, and our quiet, and our inde- 
 pendence of that duty -recalling bell. 
 
 In ten minutes after the last adieu had been 
 spoken, Marian had started for a solitary walk, 
 and Jacintha was bringing down into my room 
 heaps of tarletan, white, rose-colour, pale blue, 
 and gladly availing herself of my offer to make 
 the skirts of all her dresses; while Hawkins, 
 in afternoon gown and best apron, was respect- 
 fully and smilingly taking her seat in the same 
 room, a little apart, to undertake the sleeves. 
 
 We all worked very hard, yet all felt it 
 complete relaxation, and our tongues went as 
 fast as our needles. Jacintha, in passing a 
 window, happened to look out, and exclaimed, 
 " Oh V % and instantly began laughing. 
 
 u A solitary walk, indeed," said she, merrily.
 
 134 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Marian has soon picked up a companion ! 
 And who do yon think it is ?" 
 
 " I cannot imagine/' said I, conjuring up 
 the vision of some smart young gallant, dropt 
 from the skies. 
 
 "Fanny Ward, of course!" cried Jacintha. 
 " They have not been long asunder." 
 
 Even Hawkins could not help laughing. 
 ' c ' Like cleaves to like/ they say/' said she, 
 " and certainly Miss Ward is a nice little 
 lady." 
 
 " So that's the way you take us in!" was 
 our greeting to Miss Marian when she re- 
 turned. 
 
 "What?" said Marian, looking surprised 
 and innocent. 
 
 1 ' A ( solitary walk/ indeed ! We saw you ! " 
 
 "Oh !" said Marian, laughing a little con- 
 sciously, "I fell in with Fanny Ward, who 
 ivould not be shaken off; and as a country
 
 Poplar House Academy. 135 
 
 walk was better for her than running about 
 the town, I let her accompany me. Oh, and 
 I have accepted an invitation to drink tea 
 with the "Wards. I am so sorry Mrs. Ward 
 did not include you, Jacintha ! I suppose she 
 was afraid." 
 
 " Oh, it is no disappointment to me, thank 
 you," said Jacintha. " I would much rather 
 stay with Isabella and get on with my dresses. 
 See what a show we are making \" 
 
 "I'll come and help you with the bodices 
 directly, Jacintha." 
 
 " Aye, do, there's a good child." 
 
 Marian was soon zealously at work; and, 
 when a visitor was announced, neither she nor 
 Jacintha would quit their work. I had orders 
 to say "they were particularly engaged." I 
 had quite a little levee that afternoon, and 
 everybody was so pleasant and kind ! Mr. 
 Duncan, who was one of them, said —
 
 136 Poplar House Acade?ny. 
 
 " I understand we are to meet Miss Marian 
 this evening." 
 
 "Oh, are you to be there?" said I. "I 
 did not know there was to be a party." 
 
 So I told Marian of it when we met at 
 dinner, which was late, just because we were 
 not obliged to dine early. She thanked me 
 for the information, and, when she came down 
 from her simple toilette, she was in white 
 muslin, with a crimson and blush rose in her 
 bosom. She looked so lovely ! 
 
 Jacintha, after surveying her attentively, 
 said — 
 
 " It is a pity you are only going to a 
 draper's !" 
 
 " Ah, that's a melancholy fact," said Marian, 
 gaily. " I shall not break my heart about it. 
 Don't expect me till you see me. Mr. Ward 
 promised to send me home." 
 
 ' ' Ah ! " said Jacintha, with a sigh, when
 
 Poplar House Academy. 137 
 
 she was gone, "if ever that hacknied line 
 about the flower born to blush unseen were 
 applicable to anybody, it is to Marian ! 
 What a pity !" 
 
 "Never mind," said I. "Perhaps I apply 
 it to you ; and perhaps our dear grandmother 
 applied it to me. I am sure she thought so of 
 Aunt Christy.-" 
 
 Marian returned late, which we did not 
 mind, as we were able to get on all the more 
 with the dresses. When she did come back, 
 we heard the cheerful voices of more than one 
 male escort wishing her good-by at the door ; 
 and in she came the next moment, fresh as a 
 rose. 
 
 "Well," said she, gladly, and slipping off 
 her shawl, " such a pleasant evening ! M 
 
 " I am glad of that ! Who saw you home V* 
 
 " Such capital companions ! Mr. Ward and 
 Mr. Duncan ! "
 
 138 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 "Only Mr. Ward and Mr. Duncan ?" re- 
 peated Jacintha, with disappointment. 
 
 "Why, Jacintha ! who could you expect?" 
 said Marian, laughing. 
 
 " True ! And were they, then, all your 
 party ?" 
 
 " All but old Mrs. Greene, and Mrs. Tabor, 
 and Mrs. Duncan." 
 
 c ' What a stupid party ! " 
 
 " Stupid ? quite the reverse, I tell you ! I 
 only wish I could go to such a one every week." 
 
 " Why, what did you do V 
 
 " I talked a great deal with Mrs. Ward and 
 Mrs Duncan; and also with Mr. Ward and 
 Mr. Duncan, whom I found very companion- 
 able indeed ; and Fanny and I played c Vous et 
 Moi' in fine style, and brought down thunders 
 of applause ! Then we sang ' Where the bee 
 sucks/ with equal success. Then I, by prac- 
 tice made bold, graciously assented to the
 
 Poplar House Academy. 139 
 
 united company's proposal that 1 1 would favour 
 them with a song.'" 
 
 "English, I hope?" 
 
 " What, Italian would be wasted on them ? 
 Not so, Miss Jacintha ! Mr. Duncan under- 
 stands Italian, and sang ' Per valli, per boschi ' 
 with me \" 
 
 "Marian!" 
 
 " He did ! There now, Jacintha ! But I 
 sang an English song first — two English songs 
 afterwards." 
 
 "What were they?" 
 
 " Firstly, f Will you gang to the ewebuchts, 
 Marian ?"' 
 
 "That's Scotch!" 
 
 " And then, e Kathleen mavourneen."' 
 
 " That's Irish ! What was the third ?" 
 
 "Why, — the third — was 'Will ye gang to 
 the ewebuchts' over again." 
 
 " An encore ! quite a compliment," said Ja- 
 cintha.
 
 140 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Quite so. So it was meant. Mr. Duncan 
 said he wished he could sing it himself." 
 " What— 
 
 ' Fain would I marry, 
 Fain would I marry, 
 Fain would I marry Marian ?'" 
 
 u If Marian would marry me" added Marian. 
 " Aye, it was very saucy of him." 
 
 "Well, I had no idea " said Jacintha, 
 
 dropping her work, and falling into a reverie. 
 
 ( ' Jacintha ! " cried Marian suddenly, and 
 laughing heartily, " Fm playing you a trick ! " 
 
 " A trick I" exclaimed I. 
 
 "Then, there was somebody else there!" 
 cried Jacintha. " I was sure of it ! " 
 
 " No, there was not ! " 
 
 " Then, what is the truth ?" 
 
 " I won't tell you till to-morrow ! It will 
 give you and Isabella something to think 
 about."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 141 
 
 " Nobody there, but Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, 
 and the three old ladies V* 
 
 " No one else." 
 
 "And Mr. Duncan sings Italian ?" 
 
 " And reads it, and has been in Italy ! — " 
 
 u Weft— < Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Dobbs' have 
 been there too, Washington Irving says." 
 
 u But Mr. Duncan is neither Hobbs nor 
 Dobbs : he talks well — entertainingly — inter- 
 estingly." 
 
 "Oh! I've heard Mr. Duncan talk," said 
 Jacintha, curling her lip. 
 
 " Have you?" returned Marian complacently. 
 " Now then, I wish both you two ladies a very 
 good-night. I suppose you have forgotten what 
 o' clock it is ; and yet this has not been an idle 
 day." She was gone the next minute. 
 
 " What spirits she is in ! " said I. " What a 
 simple treat suffices her ! " 
 
 " Simple enough," said Jacintha pondering,
 
 142 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 " if it be as she says. But yet, she owns she 
 has played us a trick — Oh ! I must find it out 
 before I can sleep \" 
 
 And she hastily began to put away her work 
 for the night, in which I assisted her. We had 
 had supper and prayers long before. 
 
 When Jacintha tried Marian's door, however, 
 it was locked; so she contented herself with 
 giving it a shake, and crying out, u Naughty 
 girl ! " and went to bed. 
 
 I, for a wonder, was first down the following 
 morning, for Jacintha always indulged in late 
 rising when she could, and Marian, tired with 
 her unwonted dissipation, overslept herself. 
 My letters were lying on the breakfast table, 
 and proved to be inquiries about school-matters, 
 which put the party completely out of my head ; 
 and when my sisters came down, I began to 
 talk to them of the contents of these letters, 
 which for a time engrossed us all. Then
 
 Poplar House Acade??iy. 143 
 
 Jacintha opened and read alond a letter from 
 John, full of wedding arrangements, which 
 interested us all very deeply. She was just 
 beginning — " But, Marian, by the by — " when 
 Hawkins came in about some trivial matter ; 
 then the breakfast table was cleared, and 
 Marian had disappeared before any one missed 
 her. We soon heard her practising "do, re, 
 mi, fa," — but Jacintha and I were again too 
 busy at the dresses to trouble ourselves about 
 her. 
 
 About an hour afterwards, she put her head 
 in at the door, saying, " Shall I come and help 
 you now?" 
 
 "Yes, by all means," said Jacintha; "for 
 Hawkins is otherwise engaged." 
 
 She immediately took up the bodice she was 
 making, and re-commenced her work with great 
 zeal. 
 
 " You must try this on, presently, Jacintha,"
 
 144 Poplar House Acade?ny. 
 
 said she; "it will soon be ready for fit- 
 ting." 
 
 " Yes," said Jacintha, ' 'but, in the meantime, 
 pray enlighten ns a little about that wonderful 
 trick you played us last night." 
 
 "Why," said Marian, laughing, "the oppor- 
 tunity was irresistible — or at any rate, I was in 
 high spirits, and found it so — like a girl let 
 loose from school, in fact." 
 
 "Which you were," said I. 
 
 " Which I was," said Marian. " The capital 
 joke consisted in my not telling you that the 
 Mr. Duncan I met was not our Mr. Duncan, 
 but another Mr. Duncan." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Jacintha, dropping her 
 work. 
 
 "The member?" cried I. 
 
 "No; the member's younger brother, Mr. 
 Francis Duncan. Such a nice person ! " 
 
 " Dear me ! " said I.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 145 
 
 "To think of his going to Mr. Ward's!" 
 said Jacintha. 
 
 " Ay, there's no knowing what luck I might 
 have missed by being as fastidious as you/' said 
 Marian, mischievously. 
 
 u No, indeed/' said Jacintha, with seriousness. 
 
 " But you spoke of Mrs. Duncan/' said I. 
 
 " Yes, that was our Mrs. Duncan who brought 
 him. He is not married." 
 
 ' ' Did you know of his being expected before 
 you went?" 
 
 "Dear me, no," said Marian. "Mrs. Ward 
 even did not expect him : nor yet Mrs. Duncan. 
 He had arrived uninvited, and, as our Mr. 
 Duncan had a business engagement, and Mrs. 
 Duncan was going to a little party, he readily 
 went with her." 
 
 u A very different one from the parties he is 
 accustomed to, I should think," said Jacintha. 
 
 " Probably," said Marian. u But he did not
 
 146 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 seem grievously offended; and, as he is going 
 liome this morning, there is no danger of our 
 again coming f betwixt the wind and his gen- 
 tility/ " 
 
 " Going so soon I" 
 
 "Yes, to Pendynas, where his father's 
 great colliery-works are. Oh, Isabella ! I 
 must tell you ! Mrs. Duncan is so delighted, 
 already even, with the improvement in her 
 little girls ! She says that the education they 
 are receiving will be worth any money to 
 them, and is particularly valuable, because 
 Mr. Duncan really is going to retire from 
 business, and is in treaty for the purchase of 
 a country estate." 
 
 " Then we shall no longer have tradesmen's 
 daughters ! " cried Jacintha. " Only a trades- 
 man's daughter ! " 
 
 " Ah ! I really think you would like to throw 
 over poor Fanny \" said Marian.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 147 
 
 " I care very little about it, now/' said Ja- 
 cintha. " The mischief is done." 
 
 " Well, the Wards seem to think the reverse 
 of mischief has been done/' said Marian. 
 " They are so pleased ! " 
 
 " They ought to be ! " said Jacintha. 
 
 "Apparently, we shall start with several older 
 girls, after the holidays/' said I. 
 
 " All the better/' said Marian. " It will be 
 so interesting to train them." 
 
 t ' A good deal more labour, though," said I. 
 
 " Oh, I don't regard that," said Marian. 
 
 "Nor I, in the least," said Jacintha, ab- 
 sently. "Isabella, would you mind lending 
 me your pearl bracelets during the month ?" 
 
 " Not at all," said I. " Only be careful of 
 them, as they were a gift from my mother." 
 
 " Oh, of course I will. Thank you !" 
 
 "Yes," said Marian, pursuing her own re- 
 flections, " it certainly will be very interesting
 
 148 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 to have older girls to bring forward; and I 
 much doubt whether it will not be less trouble 
 instead of more, they will require so much less 
 help, and will take an intelligent view of the 
 purposes of their education. " 
 " If you give it them ! " 
 " Which, of course, we all shall. I look for- 
 ward to it with pleasure. I would gladly begin 
 with them to-morrow ; only that I shall be the 
 better for a little rest. Mr. Francis Duncan 
 asked me how I liked school-keeping, and I 
 told him 'very much.' He looked so incre- 
 dulous!" 
 
 "Well he might," said Jacintha. "He 
 knew it, then?" 
 
 " Oh, of course, his cousin had told him ; or, 
 if not, he would have learnt it in ten minutes, 
 for everybody was asking, quite in a friendly way, 
 how we were getting accustomed to it, and 
 whether we were not very glad of the holidays."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 149 
 
 " One of the friendly freedoms that might 
 have been dispensed with," said Jacintha. 
 
 " I did not mind it ; I did not wish to conceal 
 it," said Marian. "And when Mr. Duncan 
 said he thought I must find it a bore, I told 
 him ( not at all/ and gave him so many reasons 
 for it that at length he saw the matter quite as 
 I did. And now, Jacintha, you must try on 
 this bodice before I can set another stitch."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Ah ! if thy fate, with anguish fraught, 
 Should be to wet the dusty soil 
 With the hot burning tears of toil, — 
 To struggle with imperious thought, 
 Until the overburthened brain, 
 Heavy with labour, faint with pain, 
 Like a jarred pendulum, retain 
 Only its motion, not its power : 
 Remember, in that perilous hour, 
 When most afflicted and oppressed, 
 From labour there shall come forth rest. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 " /^OME," said I, after Marian had worked 
 v_y very busily for a couple of hours, " you 
 
 may now as well go and take one of your 
 
 ' solitary walks/ " 
 
 " I mean to do so/' said Marian, " as soon 
 
 as I have set the last stitch in this bodice, 
 
 which will be in two minutes ; and on my
 
 Poplar House Academy. 151 
 
 return, I shall have something very particular 
 to do in my own room." 
 
 " e A good novel ' to read, probably," said 
 Jacintha. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Marian. " Oh, I do not 
 forget that these are my holidays ! " 
 
 I was glad to hear her say so, for she was 
 full as much in need of relaxation as Jacintha, 
 and I saw no reason why, when one was going 
 to have all the gaiety, the other should work 
 for her as if she were paid by the day. 
 
 Marian went out ; and Jacintha observed, as 
 she broke off her thread, " I should not wonder 
 if that Mr. Francis Duncan were to call here 
 while she is away." 
 
 " I should, very much," said I. " These 
 are not the days of Evelina and Cecilia, when 
 gentlemen called in the morning on ladies they 
 had danced with overnight." 
 
 " Mrs. Duncan might so easily bring him,"
 
 152 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 said Jacintha. However, the event proved me 
 in the right, for the gentleman never made his 
 appearance. Marian really had a solitary walk 
 this time, and returned with a large nosegay 
 of wild flowers, which she carried up to her 
 own room, doubtless to make some grand 
 experiment upon. 
 
 In a few days Jacintha departed in high 
 spirits; and Marian and I remained to make 
 our little arrangements. Two of the ser- 
 vants were sent to visit their friends : another 
 remained in charge, and Hawkins accompanied 
 us to a little sea-bathing place called Fishport, 
 about forty miles off. 
 
 The journey was performed safely and plea- 
 santly. On reaching Fishport, we took a fly, 
 and began to seek lodgings. There were not 
 many, for it was quite a small place ; but a civil 
 baker directed us to a neat house, the last of 
 a row, facing the sea, and tenanted by two
 
 Poplar House Academy. 153 
 
 maiden sisters, who took lodgers, and " did 
 for them/' as the saying is. 
 
 The Misses Linnet might be fifty-five and 
 fifty years of age. The eldest was tall, spare, 
 stately, shrewd, and did all the bargaining 
 with lodgers. The younger was a trim, active, 
 pleasant-looking little woman, who, with the 
 assistance of an uncouth girl, got through 
 everything that was to be done ; always busy, 
 and never out of temper. 
 
 It was a hard life : I often thought, with 
 thankfulness, how much superior was our lot 
 to theirs. But they were quite content : their 
 education had not been such as to promise 
 them success in any higher department ; and 
 they were thankful to keep together, and make 
 both ends meet, at the price of any amount of 
 trouble they were capable of. 
 
 "You see your accommodation, ladies," 
 said Miss Linnet, with a gracious wave of
 
 154 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 her hand. "It is modest and unpretending; 
 yet, such as it is, it has sufficed for the 
 Honourable Mrs. Humbudgeon, and her com- 
 panion, Miss Flipp. However, we do not 
 boast much of our aristocracy — people come 
 here to enjoy retirement and repose, and need 
 not the gaudy gew-gaws of the world of 
 fashion — which is the reason we have, as yet, 
 no public rooms, though, doubtless, in time 
 we shall compete with other watering-places." 
 
 Hawkins remarked afterwards of this lady, 
 that "she seemed very choice in her ex- 
 pressions." 
 
 Of course, there was a fine sea smell and sea 
 taste, and, of course, we had prawns for tea, 
 and Marian resolved to bathe before break- 
 fast. She enjoyed unpacking, and putting all 
 my little useful things in handy places, and 
 taking out her drawing-box, and writing-case, 
 and sketch-book, and work basket. In five
 
 Poplar House Academy. 155 
 
 minutes after the unpacking was finished, she 
 tied on her bonnet to post a note I had written 
 to Jacintha, to tell her our address — Xo. 12, 
 Sea View. Miss Linnet showed Marian that 
 the door could be opened from the outside, 
 without taking the trouble to knock or ring 
 every time she came in; which Marian thought 
 delightfully unsophisticated, and I thought 
 rather unsafe. 
 
 When Marian returned, she flew to the 
 book- shelf to examine its contents. They 
 comprised, "The Romance of the Forest/' 
 the " Mysteries of Udolpho," "Coelebs in 
 Search of a "Wife/' " Religious Courtship," 
 "Memoirs of a Cavalier/' the "Death of 
 Abel/' Glover's "Leonidas," and Robinson's 
 "Scripture Characters." Marian said she 
 should read them all, and I think she did. 
 However, we had been provident enough to 
 bring our own literature with us.
 
 156 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 One of the characteristics of the present 
 day, when everybody reads, or is supposed to 
 read, is the terror created by the offer of a 
 book. A friend listens to yon with assumed 
 interest while you dilate on the pleasure you 
 have received from such and such a work, but 
 if you are goose enough to add, " Shall I lend 
 it you?" a look of the utmost dismay suc- 
 ceeds those of smiles, and the hurried answer is, 
 u O no, no, I thank you ! I am overwhelmed 
 just now with books. Friends have lent me 
 so many, and I have bought so many, and 
 have so many from the public library and 
 book-club, that I have more than I can pos- 
 sibly look into already ! M This grievance had 
 not made itself so powerfully felt in the days I 
 am speaking of. 
 
 What a pleasant month that was ! Marian 
 delighted herself like a child, in pebbles, and 
 shells, and sea-weeds, and spars, and different
 
 Poplar House Academy. 157 
 
 coloured sands, all of which she could manu- 
 facture into " something new and strange ? M 
 She loved bathing, and would come in, her long 
 dark hair hanging down her back, to breakfast, 
 or join me where I sat on the shingle, reading 
 or netting, and would read or net beside me. 
 She loved talking to the old fishermen and 
 their wives ; and, under pretence of some very 
 eligible investment in shrimps, or perhaps even 
 a lobster or crab, would beguile them of many 
 a chat that led to the story of some awful storm 
 or shipwreck. One day, when we were sitting on 
 the shingle, a poor old woman hobbled up to 
 us with one or two sand-drawings for sale. 
 They represented, or were meant to represent, 
 the church and an old sea tower, but were in 
 such wretched perspective, as to make one's eyes 
 ache to look at. She said they were done by 
 a son who was crippled by falling from the 
 cliff. I bought one of the drawings out of
 
 158 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 charity, but Marian did better ; she executed a 
 few correct and pretty sand-drawings for the 
 poor lad, showed him how to copy them, and 
 thus enabled him to get shillings, instead of six- 
 pences, for what were, after all, much better 
 bargains to the purchasers. 
 
 During this recess, Marian wrote a tale, and 
 composed a song, and drew a series of illustra- 
 tions of Fishport, which the proprietor of the 
 only library was glad to get engraved at the 
 top of note-paper sheets. The tale was ac- 
 cepted by the editor of a local magazine, who 
 paid her ten shillings per double-column page : 
 the song was printed after we went home. Of 
 course the money was acceptable, and gave 
 Marian the opportunity of various benevo- 
 lences that in her circumstances could not be 
 considered small. But I chiefly mention these 
 things to show how her mind, like a flowing 
 river, fertilised its course; or, like a rich
 
 Poplar House Academy. 159 
 
 meadow, brought forth sweet flowers. Even 
 in what she called idleness, she could not be 
 idle ; and if she sat beside me on the shingle 
 in profound silence, with her eyes upturned to 
 the skies, or fixed on the advancing tide, I 
 knew she was thinking how to make some- 
 thing clever, or do some one good. 
 
 Sometimes we talked in a leisurely way of 
 the characters of our pupils, and our expec- 
 tations of our new ones — arranged various 
 little plans, and provided remedies for expected 
 difficulties. We seemed to expect we should 
 go on school-keeping all our lives. At any 
 rate, there was no immediate prospect of our 
 realizing fortunes. 
 
 " Girls hate writing themes," said Marian ; 
 " but there are plenty of other ways of teach- 
 ing composition. I mean to set up a monthly 
 periodical — in manuscript, of course, — and in- 
 vite contributions in prose and verse, including
 
 160 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 short and spirited translations. The rewards 
 to the best contributors shall be copies of the 
 numbers in which their contributions appear. 
 The copying will be a very good exercise." 
 
 I laughed at a girl thinking it a reward to 
 copy out a whole number for the sake of her 
 own contribution. 
 
 "You will see/' said Marian, with a con- 
 fident look. " I know they will like it." 
 
 " Some of these girls/' resumed she, " will 
 be expected to go through a course of good 
 English reading. What do you understand by 
 a course of reading?" 
 
 " A course," said I, " may be either broad 
 or long, — a race-course, for instance. A course 
 of English reading in history need not em- 
 brace a long number of years, from Bede to 
 Macaulay. Suppose you took a subject, — the 
 Great Rebellion, for instance, — and read all 
 the books you could get upon it, — Clarendon,
 
 Poplar House Academy. 161 
 
 Lucy Hutchinson, and so forth, — that would 
 be a course of reading." 
 
 "And a very interesting one, too," said 
 Marian. " That would be a broad course : I 
 will keep it in mind." 
 
 "We soon knew by sight the few visitors at 
 this quiet little watering-place. There was 
 an invalid gentleman and his anxious -looking 
 little wife ; there was the fat mother of a 
 large family of unruly children, who screamed 
 vigorously when they were bathed ; there was 
 a determined-looking woman with frowning 
 brow and masculine step, who wore short petti- 
 coats, and paced up and down, apparently 
 steeling herself for some disagreeable but 
 necessary mode of action. There was a tall, 
 mild-looking, dignified old lady, dressed in 
 black, who supported herself on a tall, gold- 
 headed cane, nearly as high as herself, and who 
 moved very slowly, and looked very sweetly.
 
 1 62 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 One day, when Marian had left me on my 
 pile of cushions and shawls while she went to 
 bathe, I found lying on the shingle a book, 
 which proved to be Cranz's " History of the 
 Moravians." The name of Mary Heseltine 
 was written in it ; but, as I did not know who 
 Mary Heseltine was, I thought the best way 
 would be to take the book to the public 
 library to be set in the window till claimed ; 
 and, meanwhile, I dipped into the book, which 
 seemed attractive. 
 
 Presently a pleasant voice said quietly, " I 
 hope my book interests you." 
 
 I started, and saw before me the tall old 
 lady. 
 
 "Oh," said I, "1 beg your pardon. You 
 have relieved me from some embarrassment; 
 for I was doubtful whether the only measure 
 that occurred to me might secure the return 
 of the book to its owner." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the trouble
 
 Poplar House Academy, 163 
 
 you meant to take/' said she, settling herself 
 on a little camp-stool, " and glad I have saved 
 yon any. You do not look very strong, any 
 more than myself." 
 
 " I am not an invalid, however," said I. 
 " I only came here for a little change during 
 the holidays." 
 
 " You keep a school, then," said she, quickly. 
 "Ah, I, too, know something of school-keep- 
 ing, but of a different sort from what yours is 
 likely to be." 
 
 " A Moravian one, probably," said I, glancing 
 at the volume she had received from my 
 hand. 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; and seeing my look 
 expressed interest, she frankly spoke of it, 
 and I drew from her many pleasing and in- 
 structive details. In the midst of them Marian 
 returned, and silently seated herself beside me. 
 
 " Your sister, I conclude ? " said Miss 
 Heseltine.
 
 164 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " she is as much concerned 
 in school-keeping as I am — in fact, does a 
 great deal more." 
 
 " Then I need not mind going on/' said the 
 old lady, with whom Marian soon became as 
 much charmed as I was. From that time 
 forth we used to meet daily, and derived both 
 instruction and delight from her conversation. 
 I have never seen her since ; but I shall never 
 forget her ; and many things she said were 
 not without their deep and lasting influence. 
 
 Marian and I could not help being amused 
 by the eccentricities of our hostess, the eldest 
 Miss Linnet. Some people, when they meet 
 with a peculiar character, solve all difficulties 
 by saying, — "I think he (or she) must be a 
 little cracked." That is not my way of ac- 
 counting for it : I think there is an infinite 
 variety in the human species, and that indi- 
 vidual characteristics, when not rubbed down 
 by too much intercourse with the world, con-
 
 Poplar House Academy, 165 
 
 tinually display themselves with an originality 
 that is both curious and entertaining. 
 
 The first morning, Hawkins came in to join 
 ns in family prayer as usual ; the second 
 day, the worthy old lady, when she had pos- 
 sessed herself of our wishes respecting dinner, 
 smoothed her faded black silk apron with her 
 hands, hemmed, and then said — 
 
 "Family worship formed no part of the 
 domestic routine of the Honourable Mrs. 
 Humbudgeon. But since you ladies have 
 chosen the* better part, and are evidently two 
 of the wise virgins who trimmed their lamps, I 
 hope it will be considered neither presumptuous 
 nor intrusive if I propose that my sister and 
 self should avail ourselves, as we would so 
 gladly do, of the opportunity, if you will admit 
 us." 
 
 Of course I said I should be very glad ; and 
 thenceforth the two good creatures always 
 joined us morning and evening.
 
 1 66 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 One day I was seated in what they called 
 the arbour, in their little mite of a garden. 
 The sun was cheerful, but there was an easterly 
 wind. Presently Miss Linnet approached me, 
 carrying what appeared a very diminutive dog's 
 kennel. 
 
 "Are your feet cold?" said she. 
 
 " Rather," said I. 
 
 ' ' Then put them into this," said she, " and 
 you will soon find them quite warm, for there 
 is a nice little carpet inside. I often use it 
 myself in the winter, for I am very fond of 
 sitting with my back to the fire, by which 
 means my feet are exposed to a cold draught 
 from the door ; but, with this little contrivance, 
 I keep them quite snug." 
 
 I smiled and bowed, for I was afraid of 
 laughing if I spoke ; and she not only placed 
 my feet in it, but tucked my dress in all round, 
 which I secretly resolved to displace the instant 
 she was gone. Just as she disappeared, how-
 
 Poplar House Academy. 167 
 
 ever, I saw Marian coming in, and resolved to 
 await her. The instant she saw me, she burst 
 out laughing. 
 
 "Why/' said she, " you taper off to a point 
 like a well-cut pencil ! " 
 
 This set me off; but I laughed softly lest I 
 should wound the feelings of kind Miss Linnet. 
 Marian had been to the post-office, and brought 
 home a letter from Jacintha. It was full of 
 praises of Guernsey, which she said was famous 
 for " fruit, flowers, and friendship" — and, in- 
 deed, nothing could be more friendly than the 
 attention she had received from Mrs. John 
 Middlemass's family. We had previously had 
 an account of the wedding, and now a succession 
 of pleasure excursions on land and water left her 
 little time for writing, but yet she managed to 
 cross her full-filled sheets, deferring particulars 
 of many agreeable incidents till we met. 
 
 A Mr. Mortlake figured a good deal in these 
 letters; but, though Jacintha evidently liked
 
 1 68 PGplar House Academy, 
 
 him very much, she rather shunned than dilated 
 on his merits. Marian and I were quite idle 
 enough to fill up an imaginary sketch of him, 
 but it was in pure folly, for he merely appeared 
 to be a pleasant acquaintance. We were, in 
 reality, much more interested in everything 
 relating to our new sister-in-law. Here Ja- 
 cintha was more minute; she spoke of her 
 pretty height, pretty teeth, pretty hair, pretty 
 complexion, till Marian said, "I can see her 
 exactly ! " And I thought I could, too \ but, 
 very likely her ideal and mine were not at all 
 alike. Still, it was something to talk about, 
 and as I would always sooner read or hear of a 
 water-party than be of it, I was suited to my 
 mind. 
 
 The holidays were but too soon ended. We 
 went home at the conclusion of the month, 
 because we knew we should have a week's 
 work before us in preparing for our pupils. 
 The increase in their numbers called for addi-
 
 Poplar House Academy. 169 
 
 tional servants, and we engaged a nice girl at 
 Fishport, who was willing to be our under- 
 housemaid. 
 
 Miss Linnet took quite a tender leave of us ; 
 and though her sister said little, a tear twinkled 
 in her eye, when Marian, who had taken a 
 great fancy for her, begged her to accept a 
 small prettily -bound copy of " Mason on S elf- 
 Knowledge." 
 
 "It is not my custom," said Miss Linnet, 
 " to attach myself strongly to my lodgers, know- 
 ing that even where they are worthy objects of 
 attachment, which is not always the case, such 
 sentiments, at the mercy of continual separa- 
 tions, only lacerate the heart ; but this I will 
 say, that never before did I feel my heart drawn 
 towards any ladies as it has been towards the 
 Misses Middlemass; and I only hope, ladies, 
 the feeling has been reciprocal ! ,J
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Stern daughter of the voice of God, 
 
 Oh Duty ! if that name thou love, 
 Who art a light to guide, a rod 
 
 To check the erring, and reprove ; 
 Thou who art victory and law 
 When empty terrors overawe, 
 From vain temptations dost set free, 
 And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity. 
 
 Wordsworth : Ode to Duty. 
 
 I CAN understand how a dog feels having 
 his collar put on, after coming home from 
 a walk. We had had such a pleasant holiday ! 
 I shall always look back on it with pleasure — it 
 was such a complete rest ! and Marian and I 
 enjoyed our long, leisurely talks together so 
 much, and it was so delightful to see her so 
 improved in health and spirits, and looking 
 so lovely !
 
 Poplar House Academy. iji 
 
 And yet there was pleasure in returning to 
 the old house,, too; and in receiving Jacintha 
 when she returned, only two days before the 
 school reopened, glowing with beauty and ani- 
 mation. 
 
 Jacintha was a very handsome woman — 
 Rubens and Titian would have delighted in 
 such a study : her form and features were per- 
 haps on rather too large a scale, but their 
 proportions were perfect; and when she was 
 happy, there was a brightness about her that 
 might, I think, be called fascinating. 
 
 She was almost too well dressed for travel- 
 ling; but she said joyously, "I wanted to 
 make a pleasant impression on you when I 
 returned ;" and the kind motive was rewarded 
 with complete success. Then throughout the 
 remainder of the evening we talked as only 
 sisters can talk. Jacintha at first told us one 
 thing and another rather disjointedly ; but
 
 172 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 Marian exclaimed, "Ok, begin at the begin- 
 ning, please ! n and, laughing, she complied. 
 
 Hospitality seemed the marked feature in 
 Mrs. John Middlemass's family. They were 
 not refined, but they were sociable ; at any 
 rate the wedding festivities had shown or 
 made them so. There seemed no end to the 
 contrivances they had made to accommodate 
 friends from a distance ; no end to the number 
 and abundance of the meals; no end to the 
 succession of entertainments at their own and 
 their neighbours' houses. Jacintha supposed 
 one might have enough and too much of it 
 for a continuance; but, for a little time, 
 it was very pleasant, very delightful : it made 
 such a thorough change. John had been very 
 kind, and Laura quite sisterly. Oh, she was 
 a nice creature, though she might not suit me 
 and Marian as well as she suited her. Well, 
 she could not say why, but we might think
 
 Poplar House Academy. 173 
 
 her too gay ; but not at all to excess : she 
 was going to keep house very judiciously, and 
 not to exceed their means on any account. 
 
 Then, the house — what was it like ? Oh, 
 a very nice house — small, but compact, and 
 fitted up in very good taste. They were going 
 to keep very little company, and live very 
 quietly — at least, so John said. 
 
 Mr. Mortlake — his name slipped in so 
 quietly ! — and Marian and I were so careful 
 not to look at one another ! Had we ex- 
 changed a glance, we should have heard 
 nothing; but our prudence was rewarded by 
 hearing a good deal, one way or the other : 
 and the result was, a conviction in our minds 
 that he was an admirer — perhaps a serious 
 admirer — of Jacintha's. 
 
 Usually she did not mind being rallied on 
 such a topic ; but there was a little flutter and 
 hesitation about her first mention of him, that
 
 174 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 made us instinctively feel it was too tender to 
 be jested with; and, after a little pause, she 
 seemed to think, "Oh, they don't suspect 
 anything," and went on freely; while we, 
 sinners as we were, suspected all the while. 
 
 We went to bed in high good humour : the 
 next day was equally cheerful, but a great deal 
 was to be done in it, though much had been 
 done before Jacintha returned. 
 
 The girls arrived : a dozen complete. Of the 
 five new ones a few words may be said. 
 
 Mary Barnet was the daughter of a country 
 clergyman. She had lost her mother, and 
 was tenderly attached to her excellent father, 
 to whom she desired to make herself as com- 
 panionable and helpful as possible. Hence 
 there was no emulation wanting to spur this 
 good girl towards excellence in whatever she 
 undertook; and as she was both clever and 
 industrious, she promised to excel in every-
 
 Poplar House Academy, 175 
 
 thing. Jacintha was delighted with her in- 
 telligence and docility, and soon fonnd her her 
 favourite pupil. She was nearly seventeen; 
 pale, with red hair, grey eyes, and a pleasing 
 expression, though she was not pretty. Her 
 figure was neat, and she was as tall as Marian. 
 Rose and Henrietta Callender were sisters, 
 of sixteen and fourteen. Rose was dark as a 
 West Indian (indeed her mother was one), with 
 an intelligent rather than handsome face ; and, 
 like Mary Barnet, she was both industrious 
 and clever. These two had kindred minds, 
 and were not long finding it out. Henrietta 
 was prettier than her sister, but very inferior to 
 her in abilities. She was gentle, languid, in- 
 dolent, and very slow and unsatisfactory in her 
 studies. Her mother said to this young girl, 
 with the utmost sang-froid, " Henrietta, you 
 can't be clever; so you had better be interest- 
 ing."
 
 176 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 Henrietta was perfectly free from envy, or 
 from affectation. She admired her sister and 
 Mary Barnet, and, as long as she was per- 
 mitted to form a third in this bond of friend- 
 ship, only aspired to the lowest place. It was 
 pleasant to see these three girls, in their hours 
 of relaxation, strolling about together, their 
 arms interlaced, along the broad, straight gar- 
 den walks ; or, in-doors, with their three heads 
 clustered together over some book or fancy- 
 work. 
 
 Emma Grove was a long way behind these ; 
 but she was a nice, plodding, well-conducted 
 girl, thick-set, fair, fresh-coloured, with blue 
 eyes, auburn, curling hair, and an honest, intel- 
 ligent countenance. She was fourteen. 
 
 Margaret Forest was thirteen : my first im- 
 pression of her was unpleasant. Her eyes, 
 hair, and skin were those of a gipsey ; she was 
 stunted, angular, awkward, with a hooked nose,
 
 Poplar House Academy. 177 
 
 thin lips, and a kind of Napoleonic fixity of 
 countenance. Indeed, one evening, when they 
 were acting tableaux, she personated Napoleon 
 at Elba. 
 
 The sight of Fanny "Ward's undisguised joy 
 as she bounded into Marian's arms, and then 
 joyfully, though more temperately, quitted Ja- 
 cintha and myself, had an encouraging effect 
 on the new comers, who looked as if thev 
 thought we must be comfortable people, to 
 inspire such affection. 
 
 During tea, [Marian remarked that, though 
 it was now summer, winter would surely arrive 
 in a few months, and that those who expected 
 to have Christmas-trees to decorate at home, 
 or intended to make little presents of their own 
 manufacture to the different members of their 
 households, might as well begin to think about 
 them in time. " A needle is a woman's pecu- 
 liar implement," said she, " and it is a disgrace 
 
 N
 
 ijS Poplar House Academy. 
 
 not to know how to use it well ; but there is 
 no occasion to spend interminable hours at 
 what the Scotch call t white-seam :' let two 
 days have their fitting allotment of plain work ; 
 but two others of work, whether plain or fancy, 
 for charitable purposes, and the other two 
 afternoons, which will be half-holidays, may 
 enable us to get many pretty little Christmas 
 gifts completed, without encroaching on our 
 country rambles and other amusements." 
 
 " That will be delightful \" exclaimed Fanny ; 
 and the others looked what she expressed. 
 Tongues were immediately unloosed, and many 
 pretty designs projected — enough to take a 
 much longer time to execute. 
 
 " And then, about the charity-work," said 
 Mary Barnet, with a pleasant mixture of frank- 
 ness and diffidence, "I shall be particularly 
 glad to assist in that, and learn cutting out 
 and contriving, as much as I can, because it 
 will be so useful to me in our parish."
 
 Poplar House Academy. ijg 
 
 " Let us arrange what we can do/ ' said the 
 methodical Emma, taking out pocket-book and 
 pencil. 
 
 " / can do nothing, I'm sure ! " said Hen- 
 rietta, rather helplessly. 
 
 "Yes, you can," said her sister; "you can 
 satin-stitch beautifully; and, if you begin in 
 time, you may work mamma a pair of sleeves." 
 
 " So I may," said Henrietta, brightening. 
 
 u I shall do nothing," said Margaret Forest, 
 with decision; "I've no brothers nor sisters; 
 and, if I had, they might work for themselves." 
 
 Fanny Ward opened her eyes very wide; 
 but Margaret Forest was not to be daunted by 
 a look. 
 
 " If you've nobody at home to work for," 
 said a little girl, artlessly, "you may help 
 some of us." 
 
 " Thank you," said Margaret, laconically. 
 
 The next morning, I could not help enjoying
 
 180 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 the pleased surprise of the girls, on seeing piles 
 
 of French rolls on the breakfast-table, and a 
 
 diminutive pat of butter on the plate of each. 
 
 "Dear me, this is very nice! " said Mary 
 Barnet in a low tone. ff It does not seem 
 
 at all like school." 
 
 We now made bread at home ; and my cook, 
 
 who was a very excellent baker, made rolls 
 
 nearly as light as those in the shops, and that 
 
 equally answered the purpose. We had taken 
 
 counsel together, and agreed that each girl 
 
 would eat no more bread in a tempting, than 
 
 in a less attractive form ; and in a little time 
 
 each would get accustomed to her one roll, 
 
 (which, I beg to say, contained as much bread 
 
 as she would otherwise have eaten,) and, by 
 
 each spreading her own, save considerable 
 
 trouble to the servants. To make sure of no 
 
 stinting, however, a large household loaf was 
 
 placed on the table ; but no one but Margaret
 
 Poplar House Academy. i 8 1 
 
 Forest asked for any of it; and when she 
 found she must eat it dry, — having finished 
 her pat of butter, — she left half untouched. 
 She was thenceforth the only girl who ever 
 asked for any of it; and as, if she had not 
 economised her butter, she generally crumbled 
 half her slice, or left it on her plate, and at 
 length ceased to ask for it, I at length dis- 
 continued having the loaf placed on table. 
 
 I should mention that, partly to oblige 
 a worthy tradesman, partly to oblige our- 
 selves, we had taken a teacher — a Miss Dixon. 
 She was a very methodical, quiet girl — not 
 very bright, but very reliable — who, in re- 
 quital for her gratuitous instruction in certain 
 accomplishments, saved my sisters much fatigue 
 by taking an English class of the younger 
 girls, besides making herself generally useful. 
 I believe her grand object was to sing like 
 Jacintha, of which there was very little pros-
 
 1 8 2 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 pect, for her voice was like that of a mouse in 
 a cheese. 
 
 Well, we made a capital start this "half." 
 Everybody was energetic, everybody was in 
 good spirits : everybody seemed ready to say, 
 " Charming, charming ! — delightful, delight- 
 ful ! " 
 
 I remember, one warm summer's morning, 
 I had a visit from old Miss Pope, who was 
 accompanied by a tall, spare niece, of about 
 thirty-five years of age, who had been teacher 
 in a school. Good Miss Pope was benevo- 
 lently anxious to know that her little god- 
 daughters, the Duncans, did not give much 
 trouble, and hoped we did not find ourselves 
 overworked. 
 
 " Oh, no," I said, " we all have plenty to 
 do, but we get through it capitally, and sleep 
 like tops when we go bed. Would you like to 
 have a peep at the girls ? ,J
 
 Poplar House Academy. 183 
 
 "Dear me, yes, if it's not quite out of 
 rule ! " cried Miss Pope, rising and looking 
 quite fluttered. "Melissa will be so pleased, 
 I am sure," glancing at her niece, who looked 
 unutterable things. 
 
 Nothing daunted, I crossed the hall, fol- 
 lowed by my companions, and opened the 
 door. Close to it, at a little work-table, were 
 grouped the three heads of Mary Barnet and 
 the Callenders, whose eyes seemed devouring 
 their book. A little further on, in a lounging 
 chair (with her feet crossed, I regret to say), 
 Fanny Ward, learning something or other, her 
 face completely hidden by her pendent flaxen 
 locks, and her pose quite satisfactory to an 
 artist, but not to a school teacher. At the 
 large table, several girls drawing, superin- 
 tended by Marian ; two or three young ones 
 at a distant window-seat with Miss Dixon ; 
 and one at the piano, practising a brilliant
 
 184 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 duet with Jacintha, who looked round at us, 
 but did not leave off. 
 
 In another minute we had withdrawn ; Miss 
 Pope all smiles, and murmuring "pretty- 
 dears!" I enjoying a competent allowance 
 of complacence/ and Miss Melissa, stern and 
 glum, evidently considering that everything 
 in the schoolroom was " quite out of rule." 
 
 Jacintha, as I have observed, was energetic 
 and in good spirits. These good spirits seemed 
 to me very much sustained by frequent letters 
 from Mrs. John Middlemass, which were 
 conned, quoted, enjoyed, smiled over, pondered 
 over, but burnt, and never shown. Up to this 
 time, our letters had always been in common : 
 I don't say whether it was a good plan or a 
 bad plan, or whether it were a plan possible 
 to observe when domestic relations and inner 
 affections became more complicated ; but that 
 had been the plan hitherto. What one knew,
 
 Poplar House Academy. 185 
 
 all three knew, what gave joy or sorrow or 
 mere amusement to one gave it to the rest : 
 now, it was not so. Marian said softly to me 
 one morning with a smile — 
 
 " Jacintha never shows her letters now." 
 And then looked sorry she had made the 
 observation. We did not allude to it again ; 
 and I am sure Jacintha felt, and was glad of, 
 our delicacy. 
 
 The secret persuasion of Marian and myself 
 undoubtedly was, that there was a hero in the 
 case; but what sort of a hero we could very 
 poorly make out. Mr. Mortlake's name occa- 
 sionally transpired, but not in a very sig- 
 nificant way, unless to people who were bent on 
 making something out of nothing. Still my 
 impression was that our sister-in-law, Laura, 
 rallied Jacintha about him, kept up her interest 
 in him by scraps of his sayings and doings, 
 and perhaps congratulated her seriously on
 
 1 86 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 having evidently made a conquest, and that 
 this was the source of the brightened eye and 
 damask cheek. Else, why should she not have 
 shown her letters ? 
 
 Jacintha was very popular among the girls. 
 And yet she was down upon them directly 
 when they transgressed, or fell short of her 
 expectations : would speak short, and with a 
 flashing eye. But few transgressed often ex- 
 cept Margaret Forest, who decidedly was a 
 tiresome girl, stubborn and rebellious. If the 
 others had not been so good, she might have 
 infected them. 
 
 Sometimes, at night, Jacintha would say to 
 me, u That child, Margaret Forest ! what a 
 toad she is ! She is determined to take her 
 own way, and I am determined she shall not. 
 That spirit must be broken : I will not be 
 defied." 
 
 Then she would tell me some instance of
 
 Poplar House Academy. 187 
 
 her naughtiness, and end with joining me in 
 laughing at it. 
 
 Marian had not forgotten our Moravian 
 friend's account of her pupils' numerous school 
 feasts and gipsey parties. Sometimes she 
 would emulate these, by taking all the girls 
 to some farm-house or rural spot, where they 
 would drink tea in the open ah', after spending 
 the afternoon in botanizing or sketching. I 
 had found it expedient to keep a couple of 
 cows ; we already had a paddock and a stable, 
 and I made an arrangement with a good sort 
 of old man, our gardener, to look after them. 
 Sometimes we had tea or curds-and-whey on 
 our own bowling-green. 
 
 How easy it is to make children happy ! 
 How simple their amusements and pleasures ! 
 I have often been repaid by as bright and 
 grateful a smile for a few sweet-pea seeds, a 
 sheet of coloured note-paper, or a little scrap
 
 1 88 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 of ribbon or silk, given at the right moment, 
 as I could have been for presents of great 
 price. 
 
 On the second of Marian's holiday excur- 
 sions, I was a little surprised by Mary Bar- 
 net timidly requesting permission to remain 
 with me. 
 
 " I am not a very good walker/ ' said she, 
 " and it will be such a pleasure if I may stay 
 with you." 
 
 I looked at her doubtfully, for I had never 
 before heard any complaint of her walking, 
 but immediately granted her request, which 
 I now incline to think, was made partly on my 
 own account and partly on hers ; for, when we 
 were left to spend a long afternoon with one 
 another, I found her shaking up my sofa 
 cushions, arranging my shawl, and watching 
 my looks " as a handmaiden watcheth the 
 eye of her mistress." On the other hand, she
 
 Poplar House Academy. 189 
 
 made good use of her opportunity by tempting 
 me into long and unreserved conversation ; 
 telling me of all her little projects for the 
 comfort of her father and the benefit of his 
 household and parish ; and asking my advice 
 on a good many really knotty points. In re- 
 turn, I drew out from her much about her 
 home, her mother's illness, and her father's 
 trials and fatigues, manfully borne, that greatly 
 interested me. Now and then a quiet tear 
 stole down the good girl's cheek; I pressed 
 her hand, and she once kissed mine. 
 
 Dear Mary ! I believe we were both sorry 
 when our colloquy ceased; indeed, she said 
 as much, and I felt it. But they were re- 
 newed from time to time, though not often. 
 Her father could not spare her to us beyond 
 Christmas.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Serene will be our days, and bright, 
 
 And happy will our nature be, 
 When love is an unerring light, 
 
 And joy its own security ! 
 And they a blissful course may hold 
 E'en now, who, not unwisely bold, 
 Live in the spirit of this creed, 
 Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. 
 
 Ode to Duty. 
 
 11HUS, though we made no distinctions, we 
 . each had our favourite. Mary Barnct 
 was mine and Jacintha's; Fanny Ward was 
 Marian's. I liked Rose Callender, indeed, 
 almost as much as Mary, but she was not so 
 isolated, nor her position so interesting. She 
 had a mother, father, and sister, in full health 
 and prosperity. I never saw her shed, nor need 
 to shed a tear : indeed, her affections, never
 
 Poplar House Academy. 191 
 
 much called forth, lay dormant ; she was loving 
 and kind, but not susceptible. Intellect, genius, 
 were what she most admired in others and most 
 desired for herself, and she was endowed with 
 both, and with their indispensable handmaiden, 
 industry. A more laborious, painstaking girl 
 could not be found; she aimed at excellence 
 for its own pure sake, while Mary Barnet sym- 
 pathised, and Henrietta looked on in wonder. 
 
 The home-influences of these sisters were 
 not favourable. Mrs. Callender, a bosom 
 friend of Mrs. Forsyth's, -was a thoroughly 
 frivolous woman; and like many frivolous 
 women, had a strong will and imperious tem- 
 per. Having won her own husband by her 
 beauty, and considering marriage the grand 
 desideratum, her girls heard a great deal too 
 much about beauty and fortune, and the com- 
 parative values of various accomplishments in 
 the match-making market.
 
 192 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " You must leave off poking, Rose, or you'll 
 never get married ! " and similar threats were 
 frequently uttered : and the wonder was that 
 the girls were so little hurt by them. 
 
 f< Rose has talents, and Rose's talents must 
 be brought forward/' said Mrs. Callender to 
 me peremptorily, "for her father values them — 
 and so do many men; and they enhance the 
 value of beauty though they can't supply it. 
 Rose is not plain, thank goodness ! she has 
 her father's eye, and her father's brow; but 
 she will never have Henrietta's grace and 
 elegance." 
 
 Jacintha's singing — (it is surprising how its 
 fame had spread ! in a great measure, doubt- 
 less, owing to Mrs. Forsyth's little parties) — 
 had been Mrs. Callender's grand attraction to 
 us; other, and, as she would class them, in- 
 ferior attainments, she cared very little about. 
 u She could quite rely on us — she was sure she
 
 Poplar House Academy, 193 
 
 might place confidence in any friends of Mrs. 
 Forsyth's, only don't let Rose get into any 
 poking ways, nor let Henrietta fatigue herself 
 with too hard lessons." 
 
 To Mrs. Callender's recommendation (before 
 she had had any experience of our deserts) we 
 owed Margaret Forest, who was also a West 
 Indian, a motherless girl, alternately spoilt and 
 neglected by her father, who was very glad to 
 get her off his hands. Thus, Jacintha's appli- 
 cation to Mrs. Forsyth had ultimately brought 
 us three pupils ; two of them very nice ones. 
 
 Week after week found us constantly, use- 
 fully, and cheerfully employed; and continual 
 exclamations were made at the days growing 
 short sooner than usual. The only real pain 
 we received was from one or two communica- 
 tions from John, relating to my father, which 
 were of a distressing nature. But there was 
 
 nothing we could do, except pray for him ; and 
 
 o
 
 194 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 that, I will venture to say, we all did. The 
 thorn in our hearts kept us awake sometimes 
 at night, but was hidden or unfelt by day. 
 
 At length, the Christmas holidays drew so 
 near, that preparations for them were busily 
 making. We were to have a gay breaking-up 
 party ; all the home-presents were to be exhi- 
 bited on a Christmas-tree ; show pieces were 
 to be played, sung, and recited, and a French 
 charade performed. The house was full of 
 smiles, that continually broke into laughter : 
 under that influence of cheerful expectation, 
 how much was achieved ! Jacintha and Marian 
 quite revelled in their work, and the pleasures 
 of their own approaching holiday sank into 
 secondary consideration. 
 
 The grand day arrived : lessons were sus- 
 pended, that various little preparations might 
 be made ; and while Marian and Miss Dixon 
 were busied in the school-room, and I in my
 
 Poplar House Academy. 195 
 
 parlour, Jacintha went out to execute certain 
 important errands. I was alone with Hawkins, 
 giving out sweetmeats, when she returned. 
 
 " Isabella ! " said she hurriedly. I looked up, 
 and instantly saw something was the matter. 
 
 " You can go, Hawkins," said I ; " I will 
 ring when I want you." 
 
 "What is it?" continued I, as soon as 
 Hawkins had retreated; "you are ill, and as 
 pale as death." 
 
 u Oh, Fm not ill ! " gasped she ; and the next 
 instant her cheeks were like carmine. She 
 turned her face away, and concealed it with 
 her hand. "That is, — Fm not very well, I 
 believe ! " 
 
 "I will get you a glass of wine," said I, 
 going to a side-table where Hawkins had just 
 placed two full decanters, and a tray of our best 
 glass. I filled a wine-glass, and carried it to her. 
 
 " Thank you ! " and she gulped, rather than
 
 196 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 sipped a little. "It's so very foolish of me \" 
 trying to laugh. " And all about nothing — 
 only because I happened to see an acquaintance 
 — only — " and her lip quivered. 
 
 I was sure of the name, and yet feared to 
 name it. 
 
 " Only Mr. Mortlake," said she in a careless 
 tone that was accompanied by a burning blush. 
 
 " Oh, indeed/' said I, looking another 
 way, and speaking quietly. "So you met 
 him—" 
 
 " I can hardly say I met him," said Jacintha, 
 loosening her bonnet strings and then her 
 collar. " He drove past me, and our eyes 
 happened to meet. I recognised him directly, 
 and bowed, and he bowed too." 
 
 ' ' Dear me ! " cried I, " he will be calling 
 here presently, doubtless. My dear Jacintha, 
 he must have come here on purpose to see 
 you I"
 
 Poplar House Academy. igy 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, that can't be," said she, 
 fluttered, and looking very pleased. 
 
 " Why not ? Does he know anybody here ? " 
 
 "Not that I am aware of — oh, perhaps he 
 may call, jnst to — " 
 
 " Depend npon it, he will ! — with some note 
 from Laura, or message from John, just by 
 way of excuse." 
 
 " Excuse ? Dear Isabella, why should he 
 want an excuse?" 
 
 "Why, indeed?" cried I. "None is want- 
 ing, Pm sure ; only he might be glad of one 
 just by way of introduction. Dear me, how 
 fortunate that he should come to-day of all 
 others, when everything is in nice order ! " 
 
 " Fortunate, indeed \" echoed Jacintha, start- 
 ing up, all smiles. "And that reminds me I 
 have a thousand things to do, and must set 
 about them while I have time. If he calls be- 
 fore I am ready, you will receive him, Isabella."
 
 198 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 "To be sure I will/' said I, arranging my- 
 self a little at the glass; "and I'll tell you 
 what, Jacintha — I shall invite him to our 
 party V s 
 
 " Just as you like ! " cried she gaily, and, the 
 next instant was gone. In a high state of 
 pleasurable excitement, I set about preparing 
 to receive my future brother-in-law. 
 
 There were many things yet requiring to be 
 done — Hawkins was already tapping at the 
 door. 
 
 "Come in, Hawkins," said I. I thought 
 we would attack every difficulty at once, and 
 then the bustle would be over. 
 
 " We shall want more sugar, ma'am, for the 
 negus." 
 
 u Very well, Hawkins." 
 
 "And them little apples, ma'am, for the 
 wassail-bowl — cook says they're a deal too 
 small for roasting."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 199 
 
 "The smaller the better, Hawkins. Crab- 
 apples are the real thing." 
 
 " Are they to be sent up in a dish, ma'am ?" 
 
 " Dear me, no ! The spice must be tied in 
 a bit of muslin, to be afterwards taken out, 
 the eggs well beaten with the hot wine, and 
 frothed with a chocolate mill — the apples put 
 in the last thing, to float at the top." 
 
 " Certainly," said Hawkins, " if the apples is 
 to be put in the tankard, the littler they are, 
 the better." 
 
 " The tankard ! No, no, Hawkins ! not the 
 silver tankard, but my grandfather's punch- 
 bowl ! We are not going to have a c cool tank- 
 ard/ but a wassail-bowl piping hot ! " 
 
 ' { Then, if the young ladies is to partake of 
 it, ma'am, I should say, a little water," sug- 
 gested Hawkins. 
 
 "Well — perhaps a bottle of water to two 
 bottles of wine," said I, reluctantly.
 
 200 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Better be half-and-half, ma'am/' remon- 
 strated the prudent Hawkins. "Their little 
 heads is no ways nsed to anything stronger 
 than weak tea or coffee, and it would be a pity 
 to make them ache, to-night of all nights in 
 the year." 
 
 " Perhaps it had better be so/' said I ; " but 
 you must measure it carefully, and be sure you 
 don't make it too weak ; and let there be plenty 
 of sugar and spice and all that's nice, and 
 serve it very hot and frothy, with a silver ladle 
 in it." 
 
 f ' Then, ma'am, if you will please in the next 
 place to remember the strawberry -jam for the 
 stone-creams." 
 
 " Hawkins, will you ask Miss Jacintha for 
 her keys ?" interrupted Marian, looking in. 
 
 "Marian! Come in!" cried I. And, the 
 moment Hawkins was gone, "What do you 
 
 think has happened?" said I, excitedly.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 201 
 
 " I can't think ! " said Marian, surprised. 
 
 " Mr. Mortlake is come ! " 
 
 "Mr. Mortlake?" repeated Marian, with a 
 vivid blush. "Where is he?" in a subdued, 
 eager voice. 
 
 ' c Doubtless he will be here soon. Jacintha 
 saw him drive up the street ! " 
 
 "And he— " 
 
 " He bowed ! — she bowed ! " 
 
 "Dear!—" 
 
 " He can but have come for one purpose." 
 
 " To see her, do you mean ?" 
 
 " And propose ! " 
 
 " Oh, Isabella ! you are surely jumping to 
 conclusions too rapidly — you make my head 
 spin ! " cried Marian. 
 
 " Well, — I may be premature," said I, cool- 
 ing down a little, " but I think it will come to 
 that at last ; and I am sure she thinks so too." 
 
 "What has she said?" inquired Marian, 
 eagerly.
 
 202 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " She has told me to receive him for her if 
 he comes before she has finished dressing ; and 
 when I boldly said I should invite him to 
 come in the evening, she looked highly- 
 pleased/ ' 
 
 "Nay, then, there must be something in 
 it," said Marian. " You dear Jacintha ! how 
 well you look ! " giving a hearty caress and kiss 
 to Jacintha, — who just then entered, in very 
 becoming demi-toilette, — and then leaving the 
 room. 
 
 "Do I look well?" said Jacintha, smiling, 
 and glancing at her reflection in the mirror. 
 "I believe this French blue becomes me — it 
 was a very kind present of John's. But, 
 Isabella, there really are many things I must 
 look to, come who may ; therefore I think I 
 had better see to them at once ; and if any one 
 calls, you can send for me, you know." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I'll send," said I, heartily — and
 
 Poplar House Academy. 203 
 
 she went off quite secure of her sisters' sym- 
 pathy and co-operation. 
 
 Having completed my arrangements, I re- 
 paired to the drawing-room, and took up my 
 show knitting, impatiently listening for the 
 visitor s' bell. 
 
 The dinner-bell rang instead. It was a dis- 
 appointment. The girls gathered merrily round 
 the table for their last dinner before breaking- 
 up, and Jacintha, in brilliant looks, was yet a 
 little fatigued and feverish. I saw her drink a 
 tumbler of water with avidity, but she could 
 not eat. 
 
 There was a great deal of chattering and 
 laughing, but chiefly among the younger ones. 
 Mary Barnet was always quiet, even in her 
 enjoyment, and she was thinking much more 
 of our parting than of the Christmas-tree. A 
 tear shone in her eye as she looked towards me. 
 
 Margaret Forest was surly at having no dis-
 
 204 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 tinguished part to take in the proceedings of 
 the evening, owing to her own idleness; and 
 she scowled vindictively at Fanny and Emma, 
 who tried to smooth her down. How we make 
 or mar onr own pleasant hours ! 
 
 The afternoon was all hurry and bustle. It 
 was an anxious one to me. I need not add, 
 to Jacintha. Once, when I touched her hand, 
 it was so burning ! 
 
 " Do have a glass of wine," said I. 
 
 " Of water you mean," said she, going to 
 the water caraffe and pouring some into a 
 tumbler. " Delicious ! I'm quite restored 
 now. Don't look so concerned, Isabella. I've 
 had a little disappointment, that's all." And 
 she went away cheerily, though I know her 
 heart was heavy. 
 
 Well, — no visitor came. Dressing- time ar- 
 rived, and no visitor came. I arrayed myself 
 in my best, the lamps were lit, the fires built
 
 Poplar House Academy. 205 
 
 up, the girls, in their best dresses, dropped in 
 two or three at a time, smiling and gathering 
 round me or dispersing about the room. 
 Great expectations were formed of the Christ- 
 mas-tree, which no one had yet seen but 
 Jacintha and Marian, though all had con- 
 tributed to its fruits : it was to burst on us, by 
 and by, in all its glory. 
 
 Then our eyening yisitors began to arriye : 
 Jacintha and Marian joined the circle, each, 
 to my partial eyes, looking very loyely. And 
 Jacintha earned off her disappointment so well 
 that it was difficult to belieye she had had one. 
 
 Among our guests was Mrs. Meade. It was 
 a singular eyent, her coming to an eyening 
 reception of ours, and we felt the compliment 
 accordingly. I longed to sit beside her, and 
 chat with her the whole eyening. But that 
 would neyer do ; we both knew it ; and she 
 smiled and pressed my hand when I said some-
 
 206 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 thing regretful about it, replying, " No, no ; 
 you have other claims — we shall get a little 
 chat by and by." 
 
 I trusted we should; and I placed the 
 Reverend Mr. Barnet beside her, knowing that 
 two such good and sensible people must have 
 topics in common. Nor was I mistaken ; I 
 soon saw them in earnest conversation, that 
 seemed alternately cheerful and serious ; and, 
 though I could not hear a word, I caught an 
 occasional tone, that I was sure bespoke 
 mutual pleasure. 
 
 Marv Barnet was to return home with her 
 father after supper. His vicarage was ten miles 
 off, and they had a long, cold drive before 
 them. Meanwhile she was playing and sing- 
 ing her best duets with Jacintha, and her 
 father listening with gratified pride and affec- 
 tion in his eyes. Mrs. Meade was expressing 
 her approval to him, I knew, from the little
 
 Poplar House Academy. 207 
 
 bow and smile lie bestowed on her in return. 
 Then Rose Callender played, and Mr. Barnet 
 and Mrs. Meade quietly resumed their talking, 
 not so as to interrupt. One girl exhibited her 
 proficiency after another; at length I heard 
 Mr. Ward say to Marian — 
 
 w But, Miss Marian, we have not heard 
 your voice to-night." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Marian, gaily ; " I am not 
 going to enrapture you this evening. I am 
 going to light the tapers on the Christmas- 
 tree!" 
 
 And, presently, the ringing of a small silver- 
 toned bell was succeeded by the updrawing of 
 a mysterious green curtain that hitherto had 
 divided a certain portion of the room from the 
 rest. It ascended majestically, forming into 
 splendid festoons, and revealed to our de- 
 lighted eyes the Christmas-tree, blazing with 
 tapers, surmounted by a glorious star, and
 
 208 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 bearing on its sturdy branches sweetmeats, 
 gilt walnuts, gay ribbons, purses, neck-ties, 
 delicately worked sleeves and collars, and a 
 variety of other handiworks, too numerous to 
 mention. Jacintha played soft music : Mr. 
 Ward clapped his hands, which was emulated 
 by the rest till a noble round of applause was 
 produced; and then all the company drew 
 near the tree to investigate its decorations, 
 and read with interest the names on the labels 
 which announced to whom each gift was appro- 
 priated. Many found their own name, and 
 exclamations of surprise and delight accom- 
 panied the removal of their presents from the 
 tree. 
 
 While all but Mrs. Meade and myself were 
 thus engaged, she, with a significant smile, 
 placed herself beside me, and, again pressing 
 my hand, said — 
 
 "Now, the time is come for our little chat.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 209 
 
 How nicely everything has gone off ! What a 
 gratifying evening this mnst be to yon and yonr 
 dear sisters ! How pleasantly the girls have 
 gone through their various little performances — 
 so modestly, unaffectedly, and with such quiet 
 self-possession ! That excellent Mr. Barnet 
 appears fully to appreciate the advantages his 
 daughter has received here. He says she has 
 sprung up from a girl into a young woman. 
 He seems quite to reckon on her as the com- 
 panion of his evenings, and his assistant in his 
 multifarious duties." 
 
 "Mary is so good a girl," said I, "that I 
 am persuaded he will not reckon on her in 
 vain." 
 
 Here she came up to us, smiling, and said, 
 
 "Miss Middlemass, there are so many things 
 
 belonging to you hanging on the Christmas 
 
 tree unclaimed ! " 
 
 " Is it possible ? M cried I, rising with secret 
 
 p
 
 210 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 reluctance ; but Mary affectionately offered me 
 her arm, and I could not hang back. 
 
 In another ten minutes I was again at Mrs. 
 Meade's side. 
 
 " I tried/' said she, smiling, " to bring a 
 friend with me this evening, who would, I 
 thought, be a not unpleasing addition to your 
 circle; but, unfortunately, he could not be 
 persuaded." 
 
 "Mr. Meade?" said I. 
 
 " No ; a Mr. Mortlake." 
 
 " Mr. Mortlake ! " I involuntarily repeated. 
 
 " An old acquaintance of my husband's, 
 rather than of mine. He happened to be 
 passing through the town on business ; called 
 on his old friend, and lunched with us. He 
 asked me if there were not some sisters of a 
 friend of his, Mr. John Middlemass, here. I 
 replied, Yes, and that I was going to join a 
 breaking-up party at your house this very
 
 Poplar House Acade?ny. 211 
 
 evening, and said that, as lie was a friend of 
 your brother's, I should have no hesitation 
 in taking him with me, if he liked; but he 
 suddenly turned very shy, and, after one or 
 two inquiries, declined. I told him he was 
 punishing himself, for I knew he would like 
 you."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 I seem like one 
 
 Who treads alone 
 
 Some banquet-hall deserted ; 
 
 Whose guests are fled, 
 
 Whose garlands, dead, 
 
 And all but he departed. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 I WAS perplexed by this : there seemed a 
 hitch somewhere. 
 
 11 Jacintha saw Mr. Mortlake in passing," 
 said I, " so it is a pity he did not accompany 
 yon, for I think he is rather a favourite of my 
 brother's. Perhaps he will be more courageous 
 to-morrow, when we are not so formidable a 
 party." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Mrs. Meade, " he returned 
 to town this afternoon." 
 
 Here was a blow ! She little knew she had
 
 Poplar House Academy. 2 1 3 
 
 given one; and went on to speak uncon- 
 cernedly on other subjects. But, after all, 
 what harm was done ? Jacintha was disap- 
 pointed of a pleasant visitor, and my little 
 castle in the air, which Marian had told me 
 was absurd, was demolished. But coidd not 
 Mr. Mortlake pass through a town on business 
 without exciting expectations ? There was 
 nothing in it — or, at least, there would have 
 been nothing suspected, but for Jacintha' s 
 evident emotion. 
 
 Even now I could see her glancing towards 
 the door whenever it opened ; and I knew, or 
 thought I knew, that she was seemingly occu- 
 pied in one thing and really in another. I lost 
 sight of her among a group, and in her place 
 beheld the smiling, heart-whole Marian, pleas- 
 ing and pleased, whatever she said, did, or 
 looked, and followed by the loving eyes of 
 several of her partial scholars.
 
 214 Poplar House Acade?ny. 
 
 " What a charming creature she is ! " said 
 Mrs. Meade, as if in answer to my thoughts. 
 "You are happy, my dear friend, in your 
 sisters ! " 
 
 Here Mrs. Cole sailed up to us, to congra- 
 tulate me patronizingly on the performances 
 that decorated the Christmas-tree; and when 
 I turned round, I found that Mrs. Meade had 
 gone to examine it. 
 
 Supper followed, and then the party broke 
 up. I accompanied Mary Barnet into the hall 
 to receive her tearful farewell : her father 
 warmly shook my hand, and hoped she might 
 be privileged to consider me her friend for life. 
 A good deal of time was lost, after the last 
 guest had disappeared, before the prayer-bell 
 could be rung, and we could gather soberly, 
 and sleepily, in my morning-room, for our last 
 evening family service. Some may say, why 
 not send the poor tired children and servants
 
 Poplar House Academy. 215 
 
 to bed without prayers ? No, I would not do 
 that : we had had a happy evening, a pros- 
 perous and profitable half-year ; many casualties 
 might occur before we met, if we ever all met 
 again. A few brief words of thankfulness, of 
 entreaty for forgiveness of all past sins of omis- 
 sion and commission, of continued grace and 
 blessing, sent us all with chastened cheerful- 
 ness to our night's rest. 
 
 Jacintha said "good-night" directly after 
 prayers, and I saw her no more. Soon the 
 whole house was silent. 
 
 The next morning, while I was dressing, and 
 turning many things in my mind, some one 
 tapped at my door. I said, " Come in/' and 
 Jacintha entered in her dressing-gown, with a 
 letter in her hand. Our letters were delivered 
 the first thing in the morning : we could read 
 them in our bedrooms. 
 
 "This is very singular, Isabella," said she,
 
 216 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 with a troubled air, and sitting down as she 
 spoke : " here is a letter from Laura, who 
 speaks of Mr. Mortlake coming here and cer- 
 tainly intending to see me." 
 
 " His heart must have failed him," said I. 
 " Cheer up, he may come yet. He called on 
 Mrs. Meade yesterday." 
 
 " On Mrs. Meade ! And you never told me ! " 
 
 "My dear Jacintha, how could I? You 
 slipped off to bed the moment prayers were 
 over." 
 
 " That's true. Do tell me what she said !" 
 
 " It was just when the Christmas-tree was 
 first lighted up. She told me she had been 
 very near bringing a friend with her uninvited, 
 relying on our kind reception of him — a Mr. 
 Mortlake." 
 
 " I wish she had ! " cried Jacintha. "Why 
 did not she ? " 
 
 " He would not come — he said he must re- 
 turn to town."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 217 
 
 " Stupid ! tiresome ! And did he ? " 
 
 "Yes — she supposed so." 
 
 " Ah, well, there's no nse worrying about 
 it \" said she, giving a deep sigh. " 'Men were 
 deceivers ever/ There must be some strange 
 vacillation in his character. — To think of Mrs. 
 Meade's knowing him, all this while ! " 
 
 " She knows very little of him ; but he is an 
 old acquaintance of her husband's." 
 
 " Does she like him V" 
 
 11 She said she thought we should have found 
 him an agreeable addition to our party." 
 
 ' c Ah ! there can be no doubt about that," 
 said Jacintha, with another deep sigh; and 
 starting up, she hurried away. 
 
 It was a busy day, of course — people com- 
 ing or going, till the last girl had departed. 
 Then the housemaids swept away the litter of 
 dust, ends of cord, bits of straw, crumpled 
 sheets of brown paper, consequent on wholesale
 
 21 8 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 packing up, and we drew round a good fire in 
 the drawing-room just as it was growing dusk, 
 and established ourselves in our old places. 
 
 Jacintha was sadly out of spirits : Marian 
 was cheerful and talkative : she and I had to 
 sustain the conversation between us, for I 
 would not damp her harmless mirth, and I 
 hoped by degrees to cheer Jacintha. 
 
 We were all very tired ; but we unanimously 
 agreed that the half-year had been well got 
 through, and might belooked back on with honest 
 pride. Also the party of the previous evening 
 had been a success, and had given much plea- 
 sure to all. Finally, I was full of hope that 
 when our Christmas bills were paid, and our 
 earnings duly received, we should find our- 
 selves a handsome sum in pocket. On these 
 pleasing subjects, and on various little incidents 
 and traits of character, we chatted very much 
 to our mutual satisfaction till we went to bed.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 219 
 
 The next morning Jacintha suddenly en- 
 tered my room without tapping. Her hair 
 was hanging over her shoulders, and again a 
 letter was in her hand. 
 
 " Oh, Isabella ! " said she, almost wildly, 
 " such news ! " and, dropping into a seat, 
 she burst into tears. 
 
 " Mv father ! " exclaimed I. 
 
 ■r 
 
 " Oh no, no ! Mr. Mortlake — " and she 
 
 sobbed. 
 
 "What is it? what is the matter?" said 
 Marian, pale as ashes, hastily entering and 
 closing the door. Her room was on the same 
 floor, and she had heard Jacintha' s entry and 
 agitated voice. 
 
 "It's all owing to that Mrs. Meade!" 
 sobbed Jacintha, passionately. " That hateful 
 woman ! ,J 
 
 " Mrs. Meade ! M repeated I, in amaze. 
 
 ' i Yes — she told him ! "
 
 220 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 "Told him what?" 
 
 " That — that we kept a school ! M 
 
 "Oh, Jacintha ! and had not you?" ejacu- 
 lated Marian. 
 
 " How should I ? Why should I ? What 
 concern was it of mine ? — of his, I mean ?" 
 cried Jacintha with fiery eyes, and cheeks like 
 scarlet. 
 
 " Even independent of truth/' said I, " how 
 could you hope to conceal it from him ? v 
 
 "I didn't" (she was almost choking with 
 tears of rage and grief) ; " there was no de- 
 ception in the case. I neither told him one 
 thing nor another. Was I to go about, saying 
 'I keep a school' to everybody I met in 
 Guernsey V 
 
 " No, certainly not ; only — " 
 
 " Laura said there was no need whatever for 
 him to know ; and I thought the same. We 
 did not know, then, it would come to anything
 
 Poplar House Academy. 221 
 
 serious. And, when it appeared more likely/' 
 continued the weeping Jacintha, "I tried to 
 get it out a thousand times, but I could not, 
 and I knew it would come out somehow, and 
 thought he might as well learn it from any one 
 else as from me. Oh, this horrid school \" 
 
 "Does he, then, hate schools so much?" 
 said Marian timidly. 
 
 "I rather suspect he more hates conceal- 
 ment," said I, thoughtfully. ' ' Depend on it, 
 he has a noble character." 
 
 " What signifies his noble character?" cried 
 Jacintha. " It will never be anything to me ! " 
 and she cried bitterly. 
 
 u Tell us how all this has come about," said 
 I, taking her hand. u Is the letter from Mr. 
 Mortlake ?" 
 
 " Oh no, no ! from Laura." And she put it 
 into my hand. Marian leant over my shoulder, 
 and we both read it silently.
 
 222 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 It was the first epistolary effusion of Mrs. 
 Middlemass's that I had seen, and I cannot say 
 it heightened my opinion of her. In the first 
 place, the handwriting was poor — and I am 
 influenced by handwriting j secondly, even 
 her orthography was not always correct ; 
 thirdly, her style was inelegant. Moreover, 
 style is the voice of thought ; and the thoughts 
 and feelings expressed by my sister-in-law were 
 very unsatisfactory. All these conclusions I 
 arrived at, by the way, while rapidly possessing 
 myself of the facts in her letter. Stripped of 
 much flimsy verbiage they were these : — Mr. 
 Mortlake had, as Laura had often assured her 
 dear Jacintha, admired Jacintha from the very 
 first. He was a cool, reflective man, and would 
 not offer his hand till he saw his way clearly 
 before him. Then he went to Mrs. Middlemass 
 (who acknowledged, or rather boasted that she 
 had never allowed him to forget his interest in 

 
 Poplar House Academy. 223 
 
 Jacintha), and told her lie was coming down to 
 Bayford. 
 
 " As lie was close, I was close/' wrote Mrs. 
 John. " As he said nothing about his interest 
 in you, I said nothing about the school. Of 
 course, as you had not, it was no affair of mine. 
 Let the man find it out for himself when he 
 could ! Well, he went down, he saw you in 
 the street, he went to his friend (I cannot call 
 her your friend) Mrs. Meade, told her he was 
 going to call on you, and what must she do but 
 blurt it out that you kept a school ; had kept 
 one for some time — eYen before he first saw you 
 in Guernsey ! What does Mr. Mortlake do, 
 but turn sulky on the spot, giYe up his inten- 
 tions, post up to London, and then come and 
 upbraid me, of all creatures in the world, with 
 haYing kept him in the dark ! And when I 
 said it was no affair of mine, and after all, 
 where was the harm ? — he said, no harm, in
 
 224 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 keeping a school, but great harm in your having 
 concealed it, and that it so altered his opinion 
 of your character, and I don't know what all, 
 that the illusion was dispelled, and he no longer 
 felt you to be worth the seeking." 
 
 " Ah, I feared that was it," murmured I. 
 ' ' Then I know how far you have read ! " said 
 Jacintha, rousing up. "Oh, don't you pity 
 me V 3 And she threw herself into my arms. 
 
 "Most sincerely, my dear Jacintha." And 
 I pressed her to my heart. Marian's tears 
 were her only answer. 
 
 " Oh, don't you think I have been hardly 
 used V 
 
 " Severely punished, I must own, my poor, 
 dear sister." 
 
 <c Nay, unjustly used ! cruelly used ! Oh, 
 that abominable Mrs. Meade!" 
 
 " Hush, Mrs. Meade has had nothing to do 
 with it."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 225 
 
 " Mrs. Meade has had everything to do with 
 it ! I shall consider that woman my worst 
 enemy as long as I live ! So spiteful ! so 
 mean!" 
 
 " Jacintha, you are quite wrong. Mrs. 
 Meade told me, quite innocently, what had 
 passed, and her relation bore much more the 
 air of truth than Laura's. She is not a woman 
 to blurt things out, as Laura vulgarly expresses 
 it. On the contrary, with the kindest inten 
 tions, she invited her husband's friend to 
 accompany her to a school feast, merely for 
 the purpose of giving him a pleasant evening, 
 without even knowing, up to that time, that he 
 was acquainted with a family of the name of 
 Middlemass; and when he said he was, and 
 questioned her about us, to be sure we were 
 that family, her suspicions were still unaroused, 
 and she merely thought him shy and unsociable. 
 You yourself, on hearing of her invitation to 
 
 Q
 
 226 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 him, said you wished he had accepted it. Had 
 he done so, the truth must at once have become 
 known to him, even had he been ignorant of it 
 before." 
 
 "Oh that he had but come!' , interrupted 
 Jacintha, clasping her hands in anguish. " A 
 look — a smile — a tear — and all would have been 
 forgiven. All ? So trivial a fault ! — so harm- 
 less, so natural a concealment, to blight one's 
 prospects for life ? Oh, it is too, too hard ! " 
 
 And, with a fresh burst of passionate grief, 
 she started up and quitted the room. 
 
 Marian and I looked at one another in 
 sorrow. 
 
 " It is a bitter disappointment," said I, 
 " and the worst of it is that it has been her 
 own fault. How differently you behaved with 
 regard to Mr. Francis Duncan ! Oh, Marian ! 
 let this be a lesson to you — nay, to us both ! to 
 us all ! — never to be insincere, even in matters 
 apparently trivial."
 
 Poplar House Academy, 227 
 
 Marian sighed deeply. She did not need 
 the monition, for she was candour itself. 
 
 When we reassembled at breakfast, Ja- 
 cintha's eyes were red, and she hardly spoke. 
 She remained inconsolable all day. She could 
 not even make up her mind to call on her 
 friend, Mrs. Forsyth. She wrote a long letter 
 to Laura, I conclude, in her own room, and 
 posted it herself. All the evening she was 
 silent and unsociable. The next day she was 
 excessively cross : inveighed much against Mrs. 
 Meade, said testy things to Marian and me, 
 and was harsh to the servants. I was very glad 
 that Marian was engaged to spend the evening 
 with the Wards, though Jacintha told her she 
 lowered herself by doing so, and disgraced her 
 connexions. The idea of Marian being a dis- 
 grace to any one ! 
 
 The dear girl took it very meekly. She 
 knew exactly to what to attribute it, and made
 
 228 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 allowance. Previously to the breaking-up John 
 had very kindly invited Marian to spend the 
 holidays at his house, and Marian had de- 
 clined, knowing how gladly Jacintha would 
 fill her place, and affirming (with perfect 
 truth, I am convinced,) that she cared very 
 little for town gaieties, and preferred being 
 with me. John did not press the point, but 
 immediately transferred his invitation to Ja- 
 cintha, who gladly accepted it. 
 
 Now, however, affairs were changed. In 
 answer to Jacintha's impetuous letter, came 
 a very cool one from Laura, saying that, fault 
 or no fault, it was no good to repent what 
 had been done now, or to throw blame on 
 any one : the thing was done and could not be 
 undone ; and it would be fruitless for Jacintha 
 to buoy herself up with hopes of setting things 
 straight by coming to town, for Mr. Mortlake 
 had gone to Paris. Jacintha was hurt at Laura's
 
 Poplar House Academy. 229 
 
 supposing she was buoying herself up by any 
 hopes of the kind, and thought her saying so 
 was indelicate and unfeeling. In short, all the 
 prestige of the London visit was gone — she 
 resolved not to go, and wrote to say so. Mrs. 
 Middlemass, no whit chagrined, invited two of 
 her own sisters instead, who were, she said, 
 dying to spend the winter in London. There- 
 after, letters to and from Mrs. Middlemass 
 were much less frequent. 
 
 Care fed on Jacintha's damask cheek. She 
 must have been very deeply attached to this 
 man, for whom, though I had never seen him, 
 this occurrence had inspired me with great 
 respect. She became morose, captious, and 
 with frequent attacks of low spirits. I don't 
 believe she disburthened her mind to Mrs. 
 Forsyth; she paid her frequent visits, how- 
 ever, and this seemed the only thing that 
 gave her pleasure during the holidays. But
 
 230 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 Mrs. Forsyth was less a favourite than of 
 old : probably she had taken up some newer 
 favourite to be the attraction to her select 
 parties. Jacintha was only asked to two of 
 them, and each time to meet people whom she 
 knew were in Mrs. Forsyth's second-best set ; 
 moreover, she took it into her head that she 
 was asked for the sake of her voice, and that 
 Mrs. Forsyth assumed a higher tone to her 
 than formerly. She returned displeased with 
 her treatment, and declared that she would 
 refuse Mrs. Forsyth's next invitation. But 
 another invitation never came : which did not 
 improve Jacintha' s temper or spirits. 
 
 In short, our Christmas holidays were 
 clouded. Jacintha cared very little for what 
 gaiety came in her way, and yet complained 
 of monotony with irritation. Marian took 
 what offered in the way of recreation, but her 
 resources were within herself, and she could
 
 Poplar House Academy. 231 
 
 always be quietly happy, if free from anxiety 
 concerning those she loved. That was not 
 quite the case now ; for her efforts to enliven 
 Jacintha fell flat, though she did not on that 
 account abandon them.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, 
 Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, 
 And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn 
 Throws up a steamy column, and the cups 
 That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, 
 So let us welcome peaceful Winter in. 
 
 Cowper : The Task. 
 
 JACINTHA was buried in the depths of 
 a luxurious easy-chair — buried also in 
 gloomy thought ; Marian was intently manu- 
 facturing some wonderful creation of her own ; 
 while I, pen in hand, and with certain business- 
 like files and tradesmen's books around me, 
 was immersed in profound calculations. 
 
 " How much/* said I at length, leaning 
 back and drawing a deep breath, ' ' how much
 
 Poplar House Academy. 233 
 
 do you suppose we have cleared this half- 
 year ?" 
 
 "A hundred pounds/' said Marian, at ran- 
 dom. 
 
 " Marian ! — You absurd child!" 
 
 u Two hundred then," said Jacintha, reck- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Worse and worse ! " cried I. 
 
 "Worse!" repeated Jacintha. "Have we 
 not then even cleared a miserable hundred 
 pounds V 
 
 "We have exactly paid our expenses." 
 
 Marian raised her eyes from her work. Ja- 
 cintha started to her feet. I never saw any 
 one look so aghast. 
 
 " Do you mean," said she, in a voice trem- 
 bling with suppressed indignation, "that we 
 have had all the fag, worry, and disgrace of 
 this wretched school without being one penny 
 into pocket ?"
 
 234 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Be calm, my dear Jacintha : there is no 
 disgrace attaching to this school ; on the con- 
 trary, it has won for ns consideration and 
 commendation sufficient of themselves to repay 
 us for our trouble." 
 
 "That is quite true/' assented Marian, in 
 an under tone. 
 
 "The idea!" exclaimed Jacintha, exasper- 
 ated; "the idea of all this hideous toil and 
 trouble to no good ! n 
 
 "No good?" 
 
 "Why, you say we have not cleared a 
 penny ! " 
 
 " True, but we have paid our way. You 
 forget that had we not kept a school, or done 
 something equivalent to it, we could not have 
 paid our way. We must have been John's 
 pensioners." 
 
 " That's true," said Jacintha in a softened 
 tone. " But oh ! — to have had all this toil and
 
 Poplar House Academy, 235 
 
 care, this ceaseless strain on mind and body, 
 this wear of temper and spirits, this blighting 
 of earthly prospects — and for no reward — only 
 mere daily bread ! It is hard ! " 
 
 She covered her face with her hands. I 
 knew she was silently weeping. I grieved; 
 but what could I say ? 
 
 "Perhaps you have made some mistake, 
 Isabella," said Marian. "People do, some- 
 times/ ' 
 
 "Certainly they do," said I; "but I am 
 afraid I have made none here. Run over the 
 figures yourself." 
 
 Marian took the paper, and went over the 
 calculation once, twice — thrice. 
 
 " Yes," said she, looking up with her sweet 
 smile, " I would not say so till I had gone over it 
 three times. You have made a mistake of just 
 forty pounds." 
 
 " Forty pounds ! " repeated Jacintha, laugh-
 
 236 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 ing in spite of herself. " That makes a world 
 of difference I" 
 
 " Upon my word, I'm very glad of it/' 
 said I. 
 
 " Glad ? Yes ; but, my dear Isabella, what 
 a miserable reckoner yon mnst be ! " 
 
 " Well, we are all liable to mistakes. Per- 
 haps Marian has made one." 
 
 " Do give me the paper, Marian ! " said Ja- 
 cintha, stretching ont her hand. 
 
 "I can easily see where Isabella made the 
 mistake," said Marian apologetically, as if the 
 blunder were her own, or she had taken a great 
 liberty in finding it ont. 
 
 Jacintha contracted her brows, but made no 
 answer till she, too, had gone over the account 
 three times. 
 
 "Yes!" said she, clearing up; "Marian is 
 right enough. You abominable Isabella, to 
 give me such a fright ! I was just going to
 
 Poplar House Acaderny. 237 
 
 tell you it was no more than might have been 
 expected, from your luncheon cakes, your 
 French rolls, your junkettings, and your ex- 
 travagances of all sorts." 
 
 "It is well, then, you did not," said I, with 
 complacence. 
 
 " Just so; but, while we are on the subject, 
 do you really think, my dear Isabella, your 
 housekeeping may not be too liberal ?" 
 
 "With a residue of forty pounds the first 
 half?" said I, triumphantly. 
 
 u The first three-quarters. We began, you 
 know, at Easter." 
 
 " Still, if it were for the twelvemonth, it 
 would be no bad balance." 
 
 " Hum— I don't know." 
 
 " Oh no, Jacintha, the comforts of the 
 school-room must be attended to. I can't 
 pinch the girls, or set distasteful things be- 
 fore them. I would sooner keep school ten
 
 238 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 years the longer. We were once girls our- 
 selves." 
 
 " At no such very distant date, surely, Miss 
 Isabella !" said Jacintha. 
 
 " Oh, it's long, long ago," said Marian with 
 mock dolefulness. " I'm sure I feel quite de- 
 crepid." 
 
 "Well, we shall certainly not dub Isabella 
 Professor of Arithmetic if she live to the age of 
 Methusaleh! " said Jacintha laughing. 
 
 I was so glad to hear her laugh like her old 
 self! 
 
 No pupil had offered to supply Mary 
 Barnet's place. We therefore recommenced 
 with eleven. 
 
 School-keeping revealed more of its harder 
 features this half-year. It was a bitterly cold 
 January ; early rising was all the more trying 
 to those who loved their warm beds ; and Ja- 
 cintha had always been one of them. She used
 
 Poplar House Academy. 239 
 
 to come down, looking pinched, cold, and too 
 often cross : and crossness in principals always 
 re- acts on subordinates. I now and then heard 
 peevish tones. Moreover, one or two girls 
 were generally on the sick list with colds, sore- 
 throats, tooth- ache, and chilblains. We were 
 afraid that a bad swelled face would prove a 
 case of mumps ; but luckily it was not ; and 
 though Hawkins and I had plenty to do in the 
 way of coddling, we as yet kept the doctor out 
 of the house. 
 
 But a very unpleasant thing occurred, that 
 perplexed and harassed us sadly. Two or three 
 small thefts were committed, and we could not 
 detect the culprit. One girl missed a silver 
 pencil-case ; another a scent-bottle ; another a 
 small fruit-knife ; and though Jacintha accused 
 the losers of carelessness, and was sure their 
 losses must have been owing to their own neg- 
 ligence or forgetfulness, she did not think so
 
 240 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 * 
 when she missed a vinaigrette of her own that 
 
 had been given her by Mrs. Middlemass. 
 
 " This is going too far ! " said she with deci- 
 sion. " A search must be made." 
 
 A search was accordingly made, in all the 
 bedrooms and sitting-rooms, to no purpose. 
 Hawkins then came forward and begged that 
 it might extend to the servants' rooms, as she 
 said they were much hurt at being suspected. 
 
 In vain I assured her that I did not suspect 
 them : she said Miss Jacintha did, which ay *s 
 as bad ; and, as Jacintha did not deny it, my 
 saying so went for nothing. Jacintha accepted 
 the challenge, and then repented of it, leaving 
 the search half made. No good came of this 
 investigation, but some harm ; the maids did 
 not consider themselves cleared, and there was 
 a general feeling of dissatisfaction and distrust. 
 Even Hawkins, though she said little, had a 
 look of discontent.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 241 
 
 Then Margaret Forest, that disagreeable 
 child ! said she had not, nor ever had had 
 enough to eat. Again the household loaf was 
 placed on the table; and again she crumbled 
 and wasted the bread. Again, therefore, the 
 loaf was not brought up. 
 
 The day that it ceased to be placed on the 
 table was a memorable one for a more important 
 reason. As Emma Grove stood beside Jacintha 
 at the head of her class, she drew out her hand- 
 kerchief from her pocket, and with it, unwit- 
 tingly, Jacintha' s vinaigrette, which fell on the 
 floor ! 
 
 "What's this?" cried Jacintha in amaze. 
 Emma, seeing the vinaigrette, coloured like 
 scarlet — then became deadly pale. 
 
 " Stand back, young ladies ! " cried Jacintha. 
 " You all see what it is ! You all saw where 
 it came from ! Miss Dixon, go and call Miss 
 Middlemass ! " 
 
 R
 
 242 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 All stood transfixed. Miss Dixon came to 
 nie with the longest face I ever saw, and in a 
 lugubrious voice, said, " You're wanted, ma'am, 
 in the school-room, please ! " 
 
 I saw directly that something was the matter, 
 and repaired thither without a word. The first 
 thing I saw was Marian's perturbed face — then 
 Jacintha, standing in a commanding attitude, 
 the girls all looking uncomfortable around her. 
 
 " Isabella !" cried Jacintha, in a raised voice, 
 " here's my vinaigrette come to light at last ! 
 Where do you think it was ? In Emma Grove's 
 pocket!" 
 
 " You don't think I knew it was there, Miss 
 Middlemass!" cried Emma, bursting into tears. 
 
 " I don't think you meant to draw it out with 
 your handkerchief, certainly," said Jacintha, 
 with cutting emphasis. 
 
 " Oh, hush, hush ! " said I, taking the sob- 
 bing girl by the hand. u Jacintha, the pursuits 
 of the morning must not be interrupted for this.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 243 
 
 I take Emma in charge, and reserve the matter 
 for private inquiry." 
 
 "As yon will/' said Jacintha, speaking 
 quickly. " For my part I think publicity 
 would be the "only justice to all." 
 
 I led her away, without answering, into my 
 room. I sat down on my sofa : Emma stood 
 weeping beside me. 
 
 " Come, my dear, tell me all," said I softly, 
 and taking her hand. 
 
 " All ? But there's nothing to tell ! " cried 
 Emma, indignantly. " Search me ! examine 
 all my things ! " And she hurriedly emptied 
 her pocket into my lap. Among its contents, 
 our eyes at the same moment fixed on the 
 pencil-case ! and then on each other. We 
 both looked appalled. 
 
 " Somebody must have put these things in 
 my pocket \" exclaimed Emma. 
 
 " There must be some great wickedness
 
 244 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 somewhere/' said I, looking steadfastly at 
 her. "Why should anybody do such a cruel 
 thing?" 
 
 " I can't imagine ! " cried Emma. ' ' I do 
 not know that I have an enemy." 
 
 There was such innocence in her every look 
 and tone that I never for a moment suspected 
 her. I was greatly troubled. 
 
 " Now, Emma/' said I, " you must see that 
 this places us in a very unpleasant position." 
 
 u It places me /" said Emma. 
 
 " All of us/' rejoined I ; " because, though 
 I cannot for an instant do you the injustice 
 to believe you guilty, I cannot, for the present, 
 treat you as if you were innocent." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Middlemass !" 
 
 " No, Emma. Consider, my dear, how we 
 are placed." 
 
 " Consider how / am placed, please !" cried 
 she, weeping afresh.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 245 
 
 " I do, I do. I hope and trust you will 
 come forth from the ordeal without a speck 
 of discredit, but till the guilty party is de- 
 tected, the shadow of the guilt lies on you; and, 
 for the sake of common justice, we must deal 
 with you in some respects as we would with 
 the lowest person in the house, till — " 
 
 " Oh, send me home, please ! " interrupted 
 Emma, sobbing ; " send me home ! " 
 
 At this moment we were joined by Jacintha, 
 whose eye instantly darted on the pencil- 
 case. 
 
 " Ha \" cried she snatching it up, and look- 
 ing eagerly at it, "what is this V 
 
 Her eye, as she spoke, fixed piercingly on 
 Emma, who immediately seemed turned into 
 stone. She saw Jacintha suspected her, and 
 from that moment became silent, stubborn, 
 and impenetrable. 
 
 I cannot go over that scene. It affects me 
 too much. I can never bear to think of it.
 
 246 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 What tears it has often cost me in the silent 
 watches of the night ! 
 
 Suffice it to say, that Jacintha was abso- 
 lutely convinced that Emma Grove was the 
 culprit, and inflexibly resolved to make her 
 suffer as such — at least as far as common 
 opinion and separation from her companions 
 went; that Marian implored, and I insisted, 
 that Mr. Grove (who was a widower) 
 should be instantly requested to remove his 
 daughter from our house. But twenty-four 
 hours necessarily passed before he could do so ; 
 during which time I had Emma constantly 
 in my charge by night as well as day. And 
 as I could not possibly undertake two offices 
 at once, all the searching, examining, question- 
 ing, &c, that went on for the purpose of 
 throwing some light on this most painful 
 matter, had to be gone through out of my 
 presence, by my sisters. How they con- 
 ducted it, I know not; I only know their
 
 Poplar House Academy. 247 
 
 trouble was fruitless, and that Jacintha, alas ! 
 spoke and acted far too much as if it were 
 beyond question that Emma Grove was a har- 
 dened criminal. 
 
 It had a bad effect on the whole house. I 
 could hear a great deal of subdued, eager 
 talking in the kitchen, though I had given 
 Hawkins a hint to check gossip on the subject 
 as much as she could. The girls were of 
 course in a high state of excitement, and most 
 of them, if not all, very indignant at Emma's 
 being suspected, though who the guilty party 
 could be, none could divine, or, at any rate, 
 would not divulge. Everything was done with 
 divided attention : all minds were pre-occupied 
 with the one subject. In fact, how could they 
 be otherwise ? 
 
 As for Emma she cried herself to stone, and 
 then maintained a dogged silence. I am sure 
 the poor child lay awake half the night, for I
 
 248 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 could hear her softly using her handkerchief 
 under the bedclothes. At length, quite worn 
 out, she slept heavily— which was more than 
 I could. 
 
 During the ensuing long, long morning, I 
 gave her some plain needlework to do, and 
 applied myself to the same occupation in 
 melancholy silence, only now and then ad- 
 dressing her in such language as, I thought, 
 must touch her heart, whether innocent or 
 guilty. At length she quickly said, " Oh, 
 don't, please ! " in such a piteous accent, 
 that I desisted. 
 
 Late in the afternoon a fly drove rapidly up 
 to the door, and Mr. Grove alighted from it. 
 He was in a towering passion, though but 
 imperfectly acquainted with the details of the 
 case; and his anger did not diminish when 
 his poor girl, usually so undemonstrative, 
 threw herself into his arms and sobbed on
 
 Poplar House Academy. 249 
 
 his bosom. He would hear nothing ; he would 
 only storm at us all round, in no measured 
 terms, and, as Emma's box was already packed, 
 it was soon placed on the fly, and they drove 
 away in it a few minutes after his arrival : 
 Jacintha to the last preserving her attitude of 
 defiance, and I vainly reiterating my hopes 
 that all would yet be cleared up satisfactorily. 
 
 One might almost have thought a death had 
 occurred in the house, so mournful a stillness 
 ensued. We ate our evening meal almost in 
 silence; those who did not look sorry, looked 
 dull or cross. 
 
 When we reassembled for prayers I opened 
 my Bible, but, before reading it, said — 
 
 ( ' Night is coming on — how hushed and 
 still ! But there will be some aching hearts 
 beneath this roof to-night. Darkness does not 
 descend on us, as it has so often done before, 
 on a peaceful, cheerful family. A great sin
 
 250 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 has been committed; and as a loving, well- 
 ordered family resembles the different mem- 
 bers of a body nnder one head, one member 
 of which cannot snffer without its being felt 
 by the individual in whom all those members 
 are united, so, with us, the sorrow of one is 
 the sorrow of all; nay, in some respects, the 
 shame of one is felt as the shame of all, till 
 the disgrace can be effaced. Let us all then 
 make common and fervent intercession for the 
 unhappy person who has committed the great 
 sin which now weighs so heavily on our hearts; 
 bearing strongly in mind that each and all of 
 us are sinners before Almighty God, however 
 clear we may be of this particular offence, and 
 that there is no hope for any one of us but 
 through Him whose blood cleanseth from all 
 sin. 1 ' 
 
 Then I read one of the shortest penitential 
 psalms, and then prayed. Marian, Henrietta
 
 Poplar House Academy. 251 
 
 Callender, and Hawkins silently wept. I know 
 not if any one else did. All went off to their 
 beds, serious and subdued ; Marian accom- 
 panying them. Jacintha remained to talk 
 with me. She was still very hot about it ; 
 and could not give up her belief in Emma's 
 guilt, though she said she was the last girl in 
 the school of whom she could have supposed it. 
 
 " Those quiet girls ! — it is always they who 
 require the most watching." 
 
 I did not believe this to be a true axiom. 
 I had been a quiet girl myself. Still, the 
 heart is desperately wicked — who shall know 
 it ? save Him who made it. But my impres- 
 sion was, that Emma was innocent, whether 
 she could ever be proved so or not. In this 
 impression my arm had instinctively twined 
 round her as she lay sleeping beside me in 
 the night ; and when I awoke in the morning 
 from the brief but dreamless slumber that at
 
 252 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 length had given me a little rest, I had seen 
 her gazing on me with snch a wistful, piteous, 
 look, that, though she closed her eyes the next 
 moment, it sank into my heart. 
 
 I did not mention this little incident to 
 Jacintha, but I did to Marian, who came down 
 and had a long talk with me after Jacintha 
 had gone to bed; and she was comforted by 
 it, and said, (C Oh, I am so glad she woke 
 and found your arm round her ! I am so 
 very, very sorry Jacintha is so harsh, for I 
 am sure Emma is innocent , v 
 
 " Who, then, can be the offender ?" said I. 
 
 " That I cannot imagine/' said Marian, 
 sadly. " I have talked to every one of the 
 girls, seriously and separately, and I have 
 since talked to every one of the servants. 
 Each seems as guiltless as the others. It is 
 a great mystery." And, sighing, she kissed 
 me and went to bed.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 These, shall the fury passions tear, 
 The vultures of the mind — 
 Disdainful Anger, pallid Tear, 
 
 And Shame, that skulks behind. 
 The stings of Falsehood those shall try, 
 And hard Unkindness' altered eye. 
 Gray : Ode on a distant Prospect of Eton College. 
 
 I REMAINED sitting by myself an hour 
 or more, till I sat the fire quite out. 
 With a heavy heart I then arose : an indefinite 
 feeling of insecurity made me resolve to go 
 over the house. 
 
 Painfully, slowly, and noiselessly, I de- 
 scended the kitchen stairs. Jacintha usually 
 looked to the fastenings, but to-night she had 
 been pre-occupied, and had neglected to do so.
 
 254 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 Every key was turned, however, every bolt 
 drawn; but on entering the kitchen I per- 
 ceived a smell of burning. A stone or piece 
 of slate had exploded in the fire in the course 
 of the evening, and a fragment of it had lain 
 unperceived on the floor, one of the boards of 
 which was just catching fire. I closed the 
 door to exclude the draught, and lifting a 
 heavy can of water, which under ordinary 
 circumstances would have been beyond my 
 strength, I poured its contents on the board 
 till all was safe, without much minding the 
 condition in which the servants would find the 
 floor in the morning. 
 
 I have always been very thankful for this 
 escape. Surely there is frequently something 
 providential in these inward monitions of 
 danger, that behoves us to look about us with 
 more than ordinary circumspection. Had I 
 not yielded to mine, we should probably have
 
 Poplar House Academy, 255 
 
 all been burnt in our beds : an impenitent 
 sinner among the rest. 
 
 Having seen that all was safe, I regained 
 the upper floor panting; and sat down for a 
 minute or two, clasping my bands in silent 
 thanksgiving. Then I resumed my survey, 
 noiselessly pacing the carpeted gallery on 
 which the bedrooms opened ; and as I did so, 
 I bethought me of the [Moravian vigils, who 
 keep watch throughout the night in their large 
 schools, silently moving along the corridors, 
 or spending the long hours in reading and 
 prayer. 
 
 On opening the first door I startled poor 
 Miss Dixon, who was just rising from her 
 knees at her bedside. I put my finger on my 
 lips and quietly withdrew, sorry I had dis- 
 turbed her. 
 
 In the next room, all were sleeping — one 
 moaning in her sleep. I screened the light
 
 256 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 from their eyes and stole away. The moon- 
 light was streaming through the tall uncur- 
 tained window at the end of the gallery. I 
 paused for a little, and looked out on our 
 little garden and orchard, the dark spectral 
 shadows of the trees broken by streaks of the 
 white, ghastly light. 
 
 There was only one other room to visit — it 
 was on the other side of the gallery, next to 
 Jacintha's and opposite Miss Dixon's. Now 
 that Emma was gone, only two girls slept in 
 it — Alice Bicknell and Margaret Forest. 
 
 As I opened the door, I started violently on 
 seeing a little white figure standing beside 
 Alice's bed. The child started too, as if elec- 
 trified, when the light of my night-lamp 
 streamed in upon her; and dropping some- 
 thing from her left hand, which proved to be 
 Alice's dress, that had been neatly folded on 
 the chair, she hastily flung from her right
 
 Poplar House Academy. 257 
 
 some small hard substance that fell against the 
 fender with a click. At the same time, the 
 hard, dark, deep-lined face of Margaret Forest 
 was turned towards me with a look, the ex- 
 pression of which I shall never forget; and 
 she sprang into her bed, and buried herself 
 under the bedclothes. 
 
 I uttered a shrill cry of " Jacintha ! " and 
 setting down my lamp, hurried to the child, 
 whose hand I perceived in quest of something 
 under her pillow. I turned back the pillow 
 and caught her closed hand by the wrist ; her 
 fingers were too firmly fixed for me to be able 
 to unclasp them ; but Jacintha and poor Miss 
 Dixon were already at my side, and between 
 Jacintha and Margaret ensued a silent, deadly 
 struggle. I was turning quite faint, when, 
 the next instant, Jacintha triumphantly held 
 up the smelling-bottle with one hand, and held 
 down Margaret with the other.
 
 258 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 "Miss Dixon," said I, hardly able to com- 
 mand my voice, "see what lies beside the 
 fender." 
 
 Miss Dixon looked about, and almost im- 
 mediately picked up the fruit-knife, which she 
 brought to me with a look of dismay. Poor 
 Alice, half awake, sat up in her bed, looking 
 round her in perplexity, not unmixed with 
 fear. 
 
 "That completes the chain — the only link 
 wanting ! " exclaimed Jacintha. " How did 
 you know it was there, Isabella ? " 
 
 "When I entered the room she flung it 
 there. She was in the act of putting it into 
 Alice's pocket." 
 
 "Into my pocket? Oh the wicked crea- 
 ture ! " cried little Alice, springing out of bed 
 and coming close _up to me. 
 
 " You detestable girl ! " cried Jacintha, 
 pressing her hand strongly down upon her.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 259 
 
 " You're hurting me ! — oh ! oh ! " roared 
 Margaret. 
 
 " I don't care if I am/' said Jacintha : " it 
 is of no use biting me, Margaret ; if you be- 
 have like a mad child you must be treated like 
 one." 
 
 Suddenly Margaret released herself from 
 her grasp, and made a rush at the door, but 
 Jacintha instantly had her arms round her 
 from behind, pinioning Margaret's to her side, 
 as she victoriously carried her back to her bed, 
 in spite of being unmercifully kicked all the 
 while. 
 
 "I am quite competent to the charge of 
 this young fury," said she with determination. 
 " Alice, my dear, I will trouble you to go to 
 bed in my room — you and I will change 
 quarters for to-night. Go, dear, go — go, 
 Isabella. Just look in on Marian, and if she 
 is awake, tell her the missing things are found,
 
 260 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 and with whom. That poor, dear, injured 
 Emma ! I will go myself to Heatherton to- 
 morrow, and tell her how completely she is 
 cleared. I owe it to her. But we must get 
 rid of this bad girl first. Good-night, good- 
 night ! Nothing can be done now." 
 
 I felt this was the case, and also that a 
 wakeful night's quiet thought would prepare 
 us for the busy action of the morrow. Mar- 
 garet, even before we left the room, curled her- 
 self up like a centipede under the bedclothes. 
 Jacintha locked the door the moment we had 
 passed through it, and we left her alone in her 
 glory. For she was fond of bending a stub- 
 born will to her own. 
 
 I remained a minute or two outside, till 
 I found all was still. In fact, Jacintha after- 
 wards told me Margaret shammed going to 
 sleep directly, and never spoke another word. 
 Of course no child could sleep directly under
 
 Poplar House Academy, 261 
 
 such circumstances. Poor innocent Emma 
 could not ! 
 
 Miss Dixon was trembling like a leaf, and 
 very cold, for she was only in her thin night- 
 dress. I begged her to return to bed imme- 
 diately, and offered to bring her a glass of 
 wine. 
 
 "Oh no, ma'am, thank you," replied she 
 expressively, " it's only the flurry that makes 
 me feel rather satirical" (hysterical, she meant.) 
 " I shall get over it directly. How fortunate it 
 was, ma'am, that you found all out !" 
 
 "May I sleep with Miss Dixon?" said the 
 trembling little Alice. 
 
 " You may sleep with me, love, if you will." 
 
 * Oh, thank you ! " 
 
 And in another minute, the little creature 
 was nestling in my bed. Meantime, I went 
 softly to Marian's door, but it was bolted : all 
 was quiet within, and I rejoiced that the
 
 262 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 night's rest she so much needed would not be 
 broken. 
 
 I lay down beside my little companion, who 
 could not immediately compose herself to sleep, 
 but was eager to repeat how very wicked it had 
 been of Margaret to try to make her appear a 
 thief, and how glad she was I had prevented it. 
 
 "We are not worst at once, dear/' said I. 
 "Margaret perhaps stole these trinkets from 
 the mere wish of possessing them, without 
 thinking of the consequences. She has never 
 known a dear mamma's care." 
 
 " Nor has Emma ! " 
 
 " No, but Emma has been carefully brought 
 up ; has early been taught to know right from 
 wrong, and not only to knoiv what is right, but 
 to practise it. I felt persuaded all along, that 
 she could not have done this wicked thing ; but 
 appearances were so very much against her, 
 that we should not have been justified in allow-
 
 Poplar House Academy, 263 
 
 ing her to associate with her companions here, 
 and it was therefore best she should go home." 
 
 "Yes, but how unhappy she must have 
 been ! " said Alice, sighing. 
 
 " She had at least the comfort of an approv- 
 ing conscience ; and with that, I would sooner 
 have been her than Margaret undetected." 
 
 " Oh yes ! so would I," cried Alice. 
 
 "But Margaret," continued I, "has had 
 very little pains bestowed on her moral and 
 religious training, although her disposition is 
 such as more than ordinarily to require it. If 
 great pains are not bestowed on her, Alice, and 
 if she does not take very great pains with her- 
 self, Margaret will, I fear, be a very unhappy 
 character, and the source of great unhappiness 
 in others." 
 
 " She's quite old enough," said Alice indig- 
 nantly, "to know the commandment 'thou 
 shalt not steal ! ' "
 
 264 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 "•But to know a commandment and to be 
 restrained by it are two very different things/' 
 said I. " How many of us know the command- 
 ment f thou shalt not covet/ without being 
 restrained by it ! " 
 
 "Yes/' said Alice sleepily. And if I had 
 sought to make her eyelids close by the most 
 effectual soporific, I could not have better done 
 so than by preaching a little. 
 
 In the morning, while Alice still slept, I 
 went into Marian's room. She had already 
 unlocked her door, and was lying with her eyes 
 thoughtfully fixed on a Carlo Dolce engraving 
 on the opposite wall. 
 
 " Isabella ! " exclaimed she surprised, ' ' is 
 anything the matter?" 
 
 " Yes," said I, sitting down beside her, u the 
 thief is found out." 
 
 "Who?" cried Marian. 
 
 " Margaret Forest."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 265 
 
 " Oh how thankful I am that Emma is 
 cleared ! " and she clasped her hands and 
 looked upwards. "But Margaret, that un- 
 happy child ! what could induce her ? how has 
 she been able to conceal it all this time ? How 
 has it been found out V 
 
 She listened with intense interest while I 
 told her. An angel could not have shown 
 profounder sorrow and compassion at an- 
 other's sin. 
 
 " She must go," said Marian, sighing deeply; 
 " it will not do to retain such a companion for 
 the others. Oh, that Mr. Grove may allow 
 Emma to come" back ! Isabella, do let me ask 
 him ! Let me go to Heatherton instead of 
 Jacintha ! I think it will be the wiser plan. 
 She is very irritable just now ; I shall be more 
 conciliating." 
 
 "Jacintha has nothing to irritate her now 
 with the Groves, and is anxious to make repa-
 
 266 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 ration for her hastiness. You know, Marian, 
 there is something generous, even noble, in her 
 character when circumstances call it forth." 
 
 " I hope they may call it forth now, then," 
 said Marian wistfully, " for it is fearful to me 
 to see how stern and unyielding she can be. 
 Where can Margaret be sent ? Her father is 
 never fixed anywhere; he is probably in his 
 London chambers : her holidays were spent 
 at Mrs. Callender's — I suppose she must go 
 there." 
 
 " Yes," said I, "and I hope Mrs. Callender 
 may view the matter in a right light, and see 
 that we cannot help it; but she is a spoilt, 
 violent-tempered woman, though an indolent 
 one. She will very likely take up a strong 
 prejudice against us, and bemoan Margaret as 
 an injured innocent whom we have maligned." 
 
 " How can she, with such proofs ?" 
 
 1 ( True — but yet — I think I should like to go 
 to her myself."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 267 
 
 " Oh, Isabella ! it would be too hazardous to 
 you, to undertake such a journey in this cold 
 weather ! Write, if you will, but let me go to 
 her." 
 
 ' ' "Well, we must consult Jacintha — I will go 
 to her now." 
 
 " And I will dress as quickly as I can." 
 
 I found Jacintha carrying on a sort of 
 judicial inquiry, with no success. Margaret 
 was resolutely taciturn, and looked obstinate. 
 As we knew how obstinate she could be in 
 matters of comparative unimportance, it did 
 not surprise us that she should now be " mute 
 of malice," to avoid criminating herself. One 
 or two admissions, however, she had incau- 
 tiously made, and the ill-will she betrayed 
 towards Emma, whom she seemed to hate for 
 being always above her in their class, strength- 
 ened the case against her, though it required 
 no addition. As Margaret was now altogether
 
 268 Poplar House Academy, 
 
 contumacious, refusing even to dress or wash 
 herself, Jacintha turned the key upon her and 
 withdrew with me into Marian's room, where 
 we discussed what was to be done. Marian 
 urgently begged to be allowed to go to Mr. 
 Grove and Mrs. Callender, but Jacintha, who 
 was very feverish, had taken up the idea that 
 she owed it to Mr. Grove and Emma to excul- 
 pate the latter in person, and make personal 
 confession of having been wrong ; and with 
 regard to Mrs. Callender, she summarily ex- 
 pressed her conviction that Marian was no 
 match for her at all, and that she alone would 
 know how to represent the matter to her. 
 Though Marian's judgment, in my opinion, 
 was to be depended on quite as much as Ja- 
 cintha' s or mine, Jacintha had a way of always 
 setting it aside because she was the youngest, 
 whereas she by no means deferred to mine 
 because I was the eldest. In short, Jacintha
 
 Poplar House Academy, 269 
 
 had always a will of her own, and in this affair 
 it was rather too manifest that she had also 
 " a temper :" at least what is commonly implied 
 by the expression to mean jnst the reverse. 
 The end was, that Marian and I, as usual, gave 
 way ; that Jacintha, with her most resolute air, 
 sent for a fly, dressed herself with taste, made 
 a hearty breakfast, desired Miss Dixon and 
 Hawkins to pack Miss Forest's trunk and carry 
 her her breakfast ; and then, just as our usual 
 breakfast-time had arrived, the fly came to the 
 door, the trunk was placed on the box, Margaret 
 Forest marched down stairs between her two 
 attendants, and cried out — " Good-by ! I'm so 
 glad Fm going ! Ha, ha, ha ! w — and then 
 scrambled into the fly, followed by Jacintha in 
 great majesty. 
 
 I said a little, but not much, when our 
 shrunken party sat down to our breakfast. 
 Lecturing was out of place, where each heart
 
 270 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 could draw so obvious a moral from such a 
 simple lessou. A few words — a sigh — and the 
 subject was tacitly dropped. The meal was 
 a dull one, and all seemed glad to go to les- 
 sons. In Jacintha's absence I took her class : 
 it was a pleasure to me; I am naturally fond 
 of imparting what little I know to the young, 
 and probably because it is little, I have rather 
 a faculty for doing it easily and with pleasure 
 to my pupils. Thus, we all liked our task, 
 independent of being glad to take refuge in 
 it from a tendency to low spirits. The after- 
 noon proved rainy; but a deplorable case of 
 destitution coming to my knowledge, I pro- 
 posed to the girls that we should all work as 
 hard as we could for the poor family till dusk, 
 and that they should, on the following day, 
 have the privilege of bestowing their work on 
 them themselves. This pleased all; I soon 
 mustered old pieces and fragments enough to
 
 Poplar House Academy, 271 
 
 set all fingers to work, while I myself found 
 abundant employment in contriving and cut- 
 ting out. For some time, the work itself re- 
 quired thought as well as industry, but when 
 it was fairly in train, so that it could be 
 pursued mechanically, I proposed that some 
 one should read aloud. Marian chose an 
 amusing book, and many a merry laugh was 
 heard as the reading proceeded. 
 
 Jacintha did not return till late at night, 
 just as the girls were going to bed. I had a 
 blazing fire and a hot dish or two ready for 
 her, and she came in looking cold and fagged 
 enough to demand all my little attentions. 
 The very tone of her voice in the hall, as she 
 desired Hawkins to draw off her furred boots 
 for her, told me that all had not gone strait. 
 She entered the room, evidently out of tune. 
 
 ' ' What a fire ! " said she, crossly. 
 
 " I thought, poor thing, you would be
 
 272 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 perishing with cold. Even in this warm 
 corner the thermometer is only at fifty- 
 five." 
 
 " Fifty-five to a person who, for hours, has 
 been in a temperature twenty or thirty degrees 
 lower ! It is stifling. Bring the tea-things, 
 Hawkins ; I should like tea better than 
 supper. Or a cup of strong coffee. Is there 
 any?" 
 
 "It is all ready for you," said I, anxious to 
 please. 
 
 " Do take away some of these dishes, Haw- 
 kins. One would think I was an alderman. 
 What have you got there ? A sweetbread ? 
 Well, you may leave that. Don't take away 
 the browned potatoes. This coffee has scalded 
 my mouth." 
 
 She sighed — I sighed. 
 
 "All has not gone well, I fear?" said I, 
 anxiously.
 
 Poplar House Academy. 273 
 
 " I'll talk about business when Hawkins is 
 gone." 
 
 Hawkins sensibly retreated. 
 
 Jacintha, however, was in no mood to avail 
 
 herself immediately of her departure. She ate 
 
 abstractedly and silently, finished with a glass 
 
 of wine, then threw herself into her easy-chair, 
 and sat looking into the fire. 
 
 "Well?" said I, at last. 
 
 " Well, there's little to tell. I have had a 
 fatiguing day, and nothing but worry. When 
 I reached Mrs. Callender's, I sent in word 
 that I wished to see her alone, and desired 
 Margaret to remain in the fly till sent for ; 
 but scarcely had I entered Mrs. Callender's 
 boudoir, where she met me with her sweetest 
 looks and studied smiles, when Margaret 
 rushed past me, crying out, c They've sent 
 me home, and say I'm a thief!' Then, of 
 course, ensued a scene." 
 
 T
 
 274 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " And Mrs. Callender — " 
 
 " Mrs. Callender took Margaret's part — 
 would not hear a word I had to say — was sure 
 Margaret had been treated very badly — had 
 been injudiciously managed all along, or we 
 should have obtained more control over her 
 — and so forth, all in the girl's presence, with 
 Margaret hanging about her neck and darting 
 at me sly looks of defiance. To conclude, 
 Mrs. Callender said that Margaret was the 
 orphan of her dearest friend, and she was 
 bound by every principle of duty and affection 
 to make her cause her own, and therefore 
 should send a proper escort for her daughters 
 to-morrow to remove them from our care." 
 
 This was a blow ! 
 
 u In fact, she would hear nothing/' con- 
 tinued Jacintha, " and I own I at last became 
 very angry, and told her my opinion pretty 
 freely; saying I should think it due to our
 
 Poplar House Academy. 275 
 
 characters to write full particulars to Mr. Cal- 
 lender. She assured me that Mr. Callender 
 would make it a point of honour not to read 
 a letter she requested him not to read, espe- 
 cially when she told him its nature. I bowed, 
 and withdrew : leaving her and Margaret in 
 an embracing attitude, admirably adapted for 
 a tableau. What a hypocrite that child is ! "
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Alas, regardless of their doom, 
 
 The little victims play ! 
 No sense have they of ills to come, 
 
 Nor care beyond to-day ! 
 
 Ode on a distant "Prospect of Eton College. 
 
 ARIAN had quietly entered the room at 
 the beginning of Jacintha's narration, 
 and listened to it with sorrowful attention. 
 
 " Our school will be quite broken up/' said 
 she, after a pause, " reduced from twelve to 
 seven ! " 
 
 "What about Emma Grove?" said I, ab- 
 ruptly. " Is she coming back V 
 
 " Oh dear, no," replied Jacintha, " I pro- 
 ceeded to Heatherton on leaving Mrs. Callen- 
 der's, and sent in my name, but Mr. Grove
 
 Poplar House Academy. 277 
 
 flatly refused to see me. However, I per- 
 severed, saying I had a communication to 
 make of great importance, on which I was 
 admitted. There he stood on his hearth-rug, 
 with his hands behind him, and barely greeted 
 me with a nod and a short, dry cough, not 
 even inviting me to a seat. However, that 
 was a lady's privilege, so I coolly took one, 
 and then said I was sure he would rejoice to 
 hear we had fully satisfied ourselves of his 
 daughter's innocence. He said, not at all ; 
 he had been satisfied with it all along, and it 
 was a disgrace to us to have been ever other- 
 wise. He had no curiosity, not he, to hear 
 any of the particulars, for none but ourselves 
 would ever have entertained so preposterous 
 an opinion on the subject. In spite of this 
 rebuff, I proceeded to relate the particulars 
 of Margaret's delinquency, to which I saw 
 that he listened with close attention, though
 
 278 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 he only responded with ' ha/ and l hum.' A 
 pause then ensued ; which I broke by saying, 
 ' Could we have done otherwise V ( Certainly 
 you could/ replied he, bluffly ; ( I think you 
 could have done otherwise from beginning to 
 end/ I was ready to say, f How V but thought 
 it best not." 
 
 " Much/' interjected I. 
 
 u So I inquired after Emma, to which he 
 replied, ( She's not at home/ I said I hoped 
 she was well, and that I had been much in 
 hopes of seeing her and telling her how 
 sorry — but he interrupted me, bluntly, with 
 1 Ma'am, there's no need. Her welfare can be 
 no concern of yours, and the less that's said 
 on it the better/ So I rose, bowed, and came 
 away; for what could be done with such a 
 bear? He made a feint of seeing me out, 
 but only advanced about two steps, and then 
 retreated and rang the bell violently. He
 
 Poplar House Academy. 279 
 
 offered me neither rest nor refreshment, 
 though I was cold and hungry, and it was 
 beginning to snow." 
 
 ' ( Dear me, we have had no snow here ! " 
 said I. 
 
 " Oh, have you not ! " said Jacintha, ironi- 
 cally : " look out and see for yourself." 
 
 " Certainly, the shutters have been closed 
 ever since dusk," said I. " Did you know of 
 the snow, Marian ?" 
 
 Marian nodded. " Poor Jacintha! " said she. 
 
 " Poor Jacintha, you may well call me," 
 replied Jacintha, with self-pity. u I had so 
 many painful things to think of, that I did 
 not look about me much ; but when I did, I 
 thought I had never travelled through a more 
 bleak, disconsolate country. To improve mat- 
 ters, the driver lost his way." 
 
 u Oh ! " said we both, sympathetically. 
 u And, just at dusk, the fly overturned."
 
 280 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 " Oh, poor Jacintha ! What did you do ? " 
 
 "Do? What could I? but wait till it 
 was set up again — not growing any the warmer 
 for one of the windows being broken." 
 
 Marian started up, kissed her, and rested 
 her hand on her shoulder. 
 
 " Don't pity me, please," said Jacintha, 
 with a tear in her eye. "I am warmed and 
 comforted now, and shall go to bed. It's all 
 in the day's work." 
 
 " Yes, my dear sister," said I, " and a 
 hard day's work you have had ! While 
 we have been sitting still, warm and sheltered, 
 you have undertaken a long and perilous 
 journey, in inclement weather, and for our 
 sakes encountered those who were more in- 
 hospitable than the season." 
 
 " Oh, we're all in the same boat," said 
 Jacintha, smiling a little ; " you need not 
 make me out a heroine."
 
 Poplar House Academy. 281 
 
 We wished each other good-night. I un- 
 dressed with a heavy heart, and thought how 
 distressed the Callenders would be to hear they 
 were going home. 
 
 They did not show as much grief as I had 
 expected. Rose was much concerned, but 
 said little, and did not shed a tear ; Henrietta 
 cried, but only, I think, at parting with Fanny 
 Ward, with whom she had formed a close 
 intimacy. A consequential lady's-maid came 
 to fetch them, and accomplished her purpose 
 with great expedition. It was just before 
 dinner, but she said she was directed to 
 permit no delay, so they drove away, and our 
 shrunken party sat down to a meal that to 
 some of us was comfortless enough, while the 
 mirth of those who did not trouble them- 
 selves with passing events seemed rather un- 
 seasonable. 
 
 Cheerfulness, however, was a desideratum.
 
 282 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 I hinted it to Marian, who immediately acted 
 upon it, and when it grew dusk, I could hear 
 merry voices at Christmas games in the school- 
 room, while Jacintha and I sat by the fire 
 and sighed. After a time, she said, "This 
 won't do," and went to the piano, and played 
 some polkas that jarred on my nerves sadly. 
 I said " Something serious, please ;" so then 
 she sang, " I know that my Redeemer liveth," 
 throwing her whole soul into it, till my eyes 
 overflowed with quiet tears. 
 
 Fanny Ward had stolen in on hearing the 
 singing, preferring her request for admission 
 by a look, to which I as mutely responded in 
 assent. She seated herself on a low stool at 
 the other side of the fire, her head in the 
 shade ; and presently I saw the little white 
 pocket handkerchief with ribbed border drawn 
 out and stealthily applied to her eyes. Poor 
 Fanny ! we are apt to laugh at school-girl
 
 Poplar House Academy. 283 
 
 friendships, but they are often more genuine, 
 and formed on a more intimate knowledge of 
 real character, than those which we contract in 
 later life ; and say that some of them are 
 childish and fleeting, — are they never such in 
 riper years ? 
 
 Jacintha, after a pause, turned about, and 
 looking at us, said — 
 
 " You couple of dummies ! " 
 
 "We have paid you a high compliment," 
 said I, " for you have made both of us cry." 
 
 " Oh, that's the case, is it ! " said Jacintha, 
 in good-humour, for she was very alive to 
 praise ; and, seating herself beside Fanny, who 
 made a movement to rise, she passed her hand 
 caressingly over her flaxen hair, saying, 
 " Don't go, child ; " and the next time I 
 looked up, I saw her arm round Fanny's neck 
 and their hands locked together. Jacintha 
 could be very caressing sometimes, and her 
 power over the affections was then irresistible :
 
 284 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 the pity was that she had not quite an even 
 temper. 
 
 All at once, the door flew open, and — 
 " Ladies, an interlude is going to be per- 
 formed by Her Majesty's servants of Poplar 
 House ! " cried Marian : and in poured a motley 
 
 crew of 
 
 Black spirits and white, 
 Blue spirits and grey, 
 
 who "did their spiriting gently," and impro- 
 vised a passing idea of Marian's with good 
 effect; after which they trooped out as con- 
 fusedly as Comus's rabble-rout. Where was 
 school discipline ? Ay, where was it, indeed! 
 It would have been an awful sight to Mrs. 
 Cole and Miss Melissa ; and yet, somehow, no 
 insubordination ensued, and I, for one, was all 
 the better for it. As they danced off, Fanny 
 Ward danced off with them, polking with 
 Marian. 
 
 At prayer-time, I observed a good deal of
 
 Poplar House Academy. 285 
 
 coughing and sniffing, and two of the girls 
 proved to have such troublesome colds, that I 
 desired them to remain in bed the following 
 morning, unless they were better. In the 
 morning, they were not better, but worse; 
 and Matilda Fox was so feverish, and com- 
 plained of so many aches and pains, that I 
 thought it expedient to send for Mr. Heme. 
 
 This was the first time we had had a doctor 
 in the house. Marian had remarked, only a 
 few evenings before, what a singular immunity 
 we had had; and I had said, with a kind of 
 presentiment of evil, " Oh, Marian ! don't 
 boast ; " to which she had temperately replied, 
 "No, I did not mean to boast — I am only 
 thankful." 
 
 And now, here was the doctor ! What a 
 good thing it is, that when a nice, comfortable- 
 looking medical man first crosses the threshold, 
 imparting re-assurance by his very smile,
 
 286 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 people don't know how often they shall see 
 him ! Their hearts would sink, if they knew 
 all the scenes with which he and they are to 
 be associated. 
 
 Mr. Heme was a very pleasant, middle-aged, 
 married man, in good practice : it was con- 
 sidered a treat to see him when people were 
 not serionsly ill ; and when they were — oh ! 
 then how they hung upon his looks — what an 
 oracle he became ! And well he might ! 
 
 Mr. Heme pronounced Matilda to be sicken- 
 ing of fever, that might or might not be 
 infections. She was still removable, and as 
 her mother only lived at the other end of the 
 town, he thought she had better be removed. 
 
 I hesitated about taking her out of her 
 warm, bed, even to be wrapped in blankets. 
 There was still a sprinkling of snow on the 
 ground, and I not only demurred, from 
 humanity towards the child, but I felt that
 
 Poplar House Academy. 287 
 
 our school was just now under a cloud, which 
 a garbled version of simple facts might thicken 
 and darken. 
 
 " As you think best," said Mr. Heme, in 
 reply. (We were conferring in my own little 
 parlour.) " The little girl may do well : I 
 have only suggested a precautionary measure 
 for the sake of others." 
 
 Jacintha often accused me of irresolution. 
 I was irresolute now. 
 
 " Suppose we refer it to Mrs. Fox," said I. 
 " If she does not object to the hazard, it will 
 certainly be better for her daughter to be 
 nursed at home." 
 
 So I wrote to Mrs. Fox. And Mrs. Fox, 
 in reply, said she was just going to an evening 
 party, and had perfect confidence in our 
 nursing. So indifferent as some people are ! — 
 even mothers ! — I cannot understand it. Her 
 note was not written till quite late in the
 
 288 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 evening ; much too late for the removal to be 
 attempted with safety : we had given up the 
 idea of it. Mrs. Fox came to see her little 
 girl the next day : she was very nicely dressed, 
 and looked very comely and comfortable. She 
 gave us the most nattering assurances of her 
 entire confidence in us ; was happy to say 
 Matilda never took things heavily ; was sure 
 she was not going to be ill now ; felt no re- 
 luctance to leave her in our hands, while she 
 spent a few days in London, and trusted to 
 find dear Matilda quite well on her return. 
 And, leaving with her a well-filled bonbonniere, 
 she kissed her, smiled sweetly, and sailed away. 
 The little Duncans proved to have influenza. 
 I kept them in bed and wrote to their mother, 
 who, on account of her chest, I regret to say, 
 was at Torquay. Mr. Duncan had retired 
 from business ; and now that he could live 
 where he liked, as far as that was concerned,
 
 Poplar House Academy. 289 
 
 he seemed doomed to be settled on the southern 
 coast , on account of his wife. There was no 
 need to frighten her; nor did I. In her reply; 
 she expressed no uneasiness, but begged I 
 would send her a daily bulletin, till her little 
 girls were convalescent. She wrote quite a 
 chatty letter, and said they had fallen in with 
 a family of the name of Mortlake, who had 
 made many inquiries about us, and she had 
 spoken of us very freely, as she thought they 
 might have a pupil for us in view. 
 
 I did not know whether this would vex or 
 please Jacintha, so I gave her the note without 
 comment. I found she would rather have 
 been without either note or comment. 
 
 " When ivill people learn not to meddle 
 with their neighbours' affairs?" cried she. 
 " Just as if I should want a niece of Mr. 
 Mortlake's for a pupil ! O dear me ! " 
 
 I observed, afterwards, that her eyes looked 
 
 u
 
 290 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 very heavy. But it was not with crying ; she 
 had caught the influenza, as had Miss Dixon, 
 and two or three others of us. When Mr. 
 Heme came, he said merrily, "It will go 
 through the house : " but it was no source of 
 merriment to me ; though I always felt in my 
 element when nursing was required. In vain 
 Jacintha and Marian said, " Isabella ! you will 
 make yourself ill ! " I did no such thing, took 
 prudent precautions, kept out of draughts, 
 went down into the cold drawing-room as 
 seldom as I could, and took up my post, now 
 by one bedside, now by another, knitting, 
 chatting, and keeping my little patients quietly 
 amused, which I could do as well as the 
 strongest of them. 
 
 Miss Dixon, whose bedroom was shared by 
 Matilda Fox, said she could nurse her cold 
 there as well as anywhere else; and as Matilda 
 required attention, it was as well to let Miss
 
 Poplar House Academy, 291 
 
 Dixon confine herself to that room as not, 
 since she had no fear of the fever, and if 
 she were to have it/ had probably taken it 
 already. 
 
 Jacintha battled manfully with her attack, 
 and woidd not succumb, though it was fearful 
 to hear her cough. Our cook, who was a 
 selfish woman, and would not put herself out 
 of the way in any emergency, was, to do 
 her justice, a capital maker of broths and 
 arrowroot, of which she sent up abundant 
 supplies : and Hawkins trotted up and down 
 stairs with them till she was ready to drop. 
 At length, poor Hawkins was laid low, and 
 that was indeed a loss ; for the under servants 
 poorly supplied her place. Marian feared they 
 neglected her dear old Hawkins, and stole 
 up into her attic many times a day, which 
 so distressed Hawkins, that she declared if 
 Miss Marian would not give it up, she would
 
 292 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 leave her bed, dress herself, and sit by the 
 kitchen fire. 
 
 She was quite too ill for this, therefore a 
 compromise was made, the terms of which 
 Marian did not keep with quite her usual 
 faithfulness ; and when Hawkins threatened to 
 get up, Mr. Heme's name was used with great 
 authority. 
 
 Then Sarah, the under-housemaid, began 
 to look woful and cough a little. She was 
 very easily discouraged at any time ; and when 
 I said to Mr. Heme I thought we must en- 
 gage a temporary nurse, and asked him if 
 he could recommend one who was trust- 
 worthy and efficient, he said, "To tell you 
 the truth, even if it had not been for those 
 limitations, I fear I could not assist you, for 
 just now every one is laid aside. You fancy 
 your case an uncommon one, but I have 
 seventy influenza cases now on my books, to
 
 Poplar House Academy. 293 
 
 say nothing of other diseases attributable, more 
 or less, to the season, and every nurse is en- 
 gaged or ill herself." 
 
 I afterwards found this was no exaggerated 
 statement, and that in London, indeed, the 
 mortality was fearful — influenza slaying more 
 victims than the more greatly dreaded cholera. 
 Laura wrote word to Jacintha, that she met 
 hearses and walking-funerals at every turn; 
 that in three of the largest shops in Regent 
 Street every customer was buying black ; that 
 in omnibuses frequently every passenger was 
 in black; that in driving along Oxford Street 
 she had only seen three genteel persons who 
 were not in moui'ning. As for church bells, 
 they were continually tolling. 
 
 This was awful : and I read the influenza 
 reports daily printed in the Times with morbid 
 avidity, but put them out of the way of my 
 sisters when I could. Whenever one tries a
 
 294 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 little ruse of this kind, however, it is generally 
 unsuccessful : Marian and Jacintha were quite 
 as much interested in the bills of mortality 
 as I was, and Marian plainly said, "What 
 is the use of not knowing what is going on 
 among our fellow-creatures, Isabella ? Surely, 
 we ought to pity them, and pray for them, 
 though we cannot relieve them; and as long 
 as we are somewhat less severely visited, we 
 ought to be very thankful. I think people 
 neglect God's plain purpose in not taking a 
 very serious view of such visitations. He 
 means us to be awed by them, and as we none 
 of us know we shall escape, we ought to 
 prepare ourselves for the most serious con- 
 sequences j that, if they should occur, we need 
 not be afraid with any amazement." 
 
 This was so much my own feeling, that 
 thenceforth I attempted no concealment, and 
 even read the reports aloud after the girls
 
 Poplar House Academy. 295 
 
 had gone to bed, till Jacintha at length 
 cried — 
 
 "Isabella, your voice really becomes more 
 and more lugubrious. For pity's sake, don't 
 read me any more such accounts, unless you 
 mean to make me break down altogether. 
 You quite give me the horrors ! '* 
 
 When Jacintha said this, she was preparing 
 to sit up all night with poor little Lucy Field. 
 We had now two or three very severe cases, 
 which Mr. Heme was watching with anxiety j 
 but neither he nor I had considered Lucy's 
 the worst till within the last few hours. Still 
 I could not charge myself with neglect of her. 
 I had been with her continually, and never 
 left her except under proper charge; but she 
 had been rather light-headed for two days, 
 and had said such funny things, that it was 
 impossible for any of her attendants to help 
 smiling at them; and this, I suppose, got
 
 296 Poplar House Academy. 
 
 us into the way of thinking that the dear 
 little girl was not so ill as either of the 
 Duncans, who were more evidently suffering. 
 This day, however, the case had altered. 
 Marian came into my room early the next 
 morning, with tears in her eyes, and said, 
 " Isabella, do come and see Lucy : she no 
 longer rambles, but persists in a low mutter- 
 ing, and though her eyes are open, they 
 have the strangest look, and I am sure 
 she does not see us." 
 
 Much alarmed, I went to her instantly, 
 and found her exactly as Marian had de- 
 scribed. Jacintha was bending over her with 
 a look of deep care. The instant I appeared, 
 she looked up, and said in an under tone, 
 " Send for Mr. Heme." I hastily did so, 
 and then returned, Marian continuing to stand 
 at the foot of the bed, the picture of woe. 
 
 When Mr. Heme came, he said aside to
 
 Poplar House Academy. 297 
 
 me, " Send for her mother." I begged 
 Marian to do so, and remained at my post. 
 I said, " Lucy, love, do yon hear me?" No 
 answer. Dismayed, I turned to Mr. Heme, 
 and whispered, " Is there any hope ? " He 
 shook his head. My heart gave such a bound, 
 and then seemed to die. I said, " What 
 would be the first favourable sign?" He 
 sadly replied, "To cease that muttering, and 
 close her eyes." I sighed. Presently I said, 
 " She seems choking." He did not answer. 
 It ceased. She gave four such peaceful 
 breaths ! I looked at him — hopefully — dis- 
 mayed ! He said, " Poor little soul ! All is 
 over ! " 
 
 END of vol. 1.
 
 / 

 
 
 5> >»>^ 
 
 :»> > »; » > _ 
 
 ~» y >~> ^>k> > :*> > :>» 1 
 
 » ^ >3 >» :» > 
 
 > ■»■» 
 
 fj ' 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 -) 
 
 > 
 
 
 > - • 
 
 
 >' 
 
 
 > » 
 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 j» 
 
 
 >*> 
 
 
 5 a 
 
 » 0*3 
 
 * ^r*i^r ** 
 
 
 > 
 
 ^ ^c£ 
 
 
 "* ^^ 
 
 ~> ^ 
 
 
 i 5» ^ ■ > 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Jr-J»> J 
 
 ^ > ^ 
 
 
 "^^ 
 
 
 
 ^*^> 
 
 ' 
 
 ^ > _d 
 
 
 ■ y i " 1 ' ~^ 
 
 ^Jfc > 
 
 
 > 3 3 
 
 >3 > ; ^ 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 ^> 
 
 H?? 
 
 z* 
 
 — 1» > 
 
 ^ ^. 
 
 ' 3> > . 
 
 >^ * > > 
 
 
 > > 
 
 -> > > 
 
 > ^ 
 
 -* » 
 
 > > J» 1 
 
 
 >:> i 
 
 v 
 ... V«>^
 
 
 
 *7T 
 
 I > 
 
 ^ ^ - ag 
 
 > H 
 
 
 «**»*, 
 
 "3 -^. 
 
 
 
 .5 39* ^ 
 > i> ■■>■■ ^ "4^>- * T- 
 
 «>*> » S3* 3 : 
 
 ■3 .>3L^^Sw»i^ 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 3 -' 
 
 3K| 
 
 3> 
 
 
 

 
 ' *^m*w%: 
 
 : S:m* 
 
 UNI VER9ITY OP ILLINOI8-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 049780973 
 
 
 m'f' 
 
 m*r%\ 
 
 fl^r 
 
 9WA* 
 
 
 ^ " * '' 
 
 Ibrlifl 
 
 H^ii 
 
 A'^m. 
 
 ^ ,f \.rr