"Then you had the rare power of elucidating a principle?"
"No, not I. My brother had; but I could only perceive the confirmation."
"This reminds me of an interesting article on the Edgeworth system of
education in the 'Traveller's Review.' I will send it down to you."
"Thank you, but I have it here."
"Indeed; and do you not think it excellent, and quite agree with it?"
"Yes, I quite agree with it," and there was an odd look in her bright
transparent eyes that made Grace speculate whether she could have heard
that agreement with the Invalid in the "Traveller's Review" was one of
the primary articles of faith acquired by Rachel.
But Grace, though rather proud of Rachel's falling under the spell of
Miss Williams' conversation, deemed an examination rather hard on her,
and took the opportunity of asking for her sister.
"She is generally at home by this time; but this is her last day at
Cliff Cottages, and she was to stay late to help in the packing up."
"Will she be at home for the present?" asked Grace.
"Yes, Rose and I are looking forward to a festival of her."
Grace was not at all surprised to hear Rachel at once commit herself
with "My cousin, Lady Temple," and rush into the matter in hand as if
secure that the other Miss Williams would educate on the principles of
the Invalid; but full in the midst there was a sound of wheels and a
ring at the bell. Miss Williams quietly signed to her little attendant
to put a chair in an accessible place, and in walked Lady Temple, Mrs.
Curtis, and the middle brace of boys.
"The room will be too full," was Grace's aside to her sister, chiefly
thinking of her mother, but also of their hostess; but Rachel returned
for answer, "I must see about it;" and Grace could only remove herself
into the verandah, and try to attract Leoline and Hubert after her, but
failing in this, she talked to the far more conversible Rose about the
bullfinch that hung at the window, which loved no one but Aunt Ermine,
and scolded and pecked at every one else; and Augustus, the beloved
tame toad, that lived in a hole under a tree in the garden. Mrs. Curtis,
considerate and tender-hearted, startled to find her daughter in the
field, and wishing her niece to begin about her own affairs, talked
common-place by way of filling up the time, and Rachel had her eyes free
for a range of the apartment. The foundation was the dull, third-rate
lodging-house, the superstructure told of other scenes. One end of
the room was almost filled by the frameless portrait of a dignified
clergyman, who would have had far more justice done to him by greater
distance; a beautifully-painted miniature of a lady with short waist and
small crisp curls, was the centre of a system of photographs over the
mantel-piece; a large crayon sketch showed three sisters between the
ages of six and sixteen, sentimentalizing over a flower-basket; a pair
of water-colour drawings represented a handsome church and comfortable
parsonage; and the domestic gallery was completed by two prints--one of
a middle-aged county-member, the other one of Chalon's ladylike matrons
in watered-silk aprons. With some difficulty Rachel read on the one the
autograph, J. T. Beauchamp, and on the other the inscription, the Lady
Alison Beauchamp. The table-cover was of tasteful silk patchwork, the
vase in the centre was of red earthenware, but was encircled with
real ivy leaves gummed on in their freshness, and was filled with wild
flowers; books filled every corner; and Rachel felt herself out of the
much-loathed region of common-place, but she could not recover from her
surprise at the audacity of such an independent measure on the part of
her cousin; and under cover of her mother's civil talk, said to Fanny,
"I never expected to see you here."