Chapter II
It was some days before I was able to fulfil my promise to Miss Elliott of coming to visit but on Friday morning I put on my riding habit and hat, and ascended the vale toward the school.
As I rode I thought how delightful it was to have a new acquaintance in the neighbourhood, especially a woman of similar age to myself who was amiable and intelligent, if a little reserved.
I reached the school and dismounted; I could see Miss Elliott, through the window, teaching at the head of the class—how confident and at ease she looks, I thought, if I were made to do the same I should not be half so authoritative—I am no good at being serious like she! I went to the little door and knocked, Miss Elliott called to one of the pupils within and I was admitted into the schoolroom by a sweet, though poor looking young girl. Her clothes were shabby and her hair unkempt and she seemed to stare at me as though I had come from another world!
"Good morning, Miss Oliver, " Miss Elliot said, coming forward to greet me, and I was pleased that she seemed happy I had come.
"Rosamond, please," I smiled.
"Jane," she replied."Girls," she prompted turning to her pupils; "Good morning Miss Oliver," they chorused, and I saw that she had already acquired the obedience and respect of her class; no doubt she would do very well in the position, and it was pleasing to think how much good the little school St John and Papa had initiated might do under her guidance.
"Good morning," I replied to the row of eyes that were fixed upon me. "I thought I might be of use to you," I continued to Miss Elliott, "Though I hope this morning's lesson is not arithmetic, for I become quite shockingly confused over sums!"
"No," she replied in her low, calm voice "this morning we are continuing with our needlework."
"Ah, well that is the one thing I can help with!" I cried.
I spent the next half hour teaching a handful of the older girls how to make a chain stitch. At first we had little to say to each other, and I found the silences rather uncomfortable, I think the girls were shy of me, not realising that I was equally shy of they. However, they soon began talking animatedly; they asked many questions about the balls in S— and I was only too happy to relive the gay evenings I had spent there, so that together we had a very merry time!
My pupils mastered the stitch quickly and I was proud of my little attempt at being a school mistress—I was just showing Miss Elliott a particularly pretty detail one of the girls had sewn when St John entered the room.
He saw me, I was sure, I observed his eyes start as he looked on me yet despite having observed me, he sharply turned away and chose first to greet Miss Elliott.
"Good afternoon Miss Elliott," he said, trying to sound composed, but I had seen his look and he knew so."You seem very much at home here," he continued,"I am glad of it."
"Yes, I am very comfortable here," replied she, "And if I am to be treated to such visitors every morning I shall not want for company." As Miss Elliott said this last remark she gestured toward me and St John was forced to acknowledge my presence.
"Miss Oliver, good afternoon," he greeted me cooly. He had steadied himself since the surprise of meeting me but I was determined still to remove that stony mask of his and reach his heart.
"Good afternoon Mr Rivers," I answered, trying to remain unfazed, and moving closer; I was gratified to see again the flustered look in his eye and discomposure of his usually serene countenance. "Miss Elliot is quite wonderful is she not," I went on, for I would not let his coldness prevail, over either he or I. " I cannot imagine a better school mistress, can you?!" I intended to force him into conversation if he was unwilling to enter it obligingly.
"No, I could not."
"Miss Oliver has been teaching the girls chain stitch" said Miss Elliott, handing him the student's work.
"Ah, a very pretty stitch," he observed placidly "But not the most practical, I think."
This comment displeased me and I was almost inclined to to be cross with him.
"Beauty is more valuable than practicality in embroidery," I retorted, "Indeed, when is it not!" I added with a laugh.
"It has its value, certainly," replied St John " And perhaps, in regard to to needle work, you know more than I, but in the world in general, practicality will always be of greater worth. Neither, however, are of the highest value," he added.
"Yes, I quite agree. Love, for instance, exceeds them both, does it not?"
The words had their effect; he acquired that curious look of his and I thought I observed a tremor run through him.
"Divine Love; to love God, and be guided by that love to do right is worthy indeed!"
"To be sure, and to love another...that is worthy also."
I observed him again and saw that his hand was trembling. He does feel for me, I thought happily—and passionately too! He caught my gaze and sternly clasped his hands behind his back.
"All love is worthy," he replied,"it is God's will that we should love, but love of one individual alone is, I believe, love in its most ineffectual form, and can hardly be so great or initiate so much good as love of God."
He looked at me for a moment, calmly and deeply, and I read in his look the resolution to suppress any feelings he had for me, indeed I felt that he intended me to read it.
"Now, we have lingered long enough. I shall read," he said abruptly, going to the head of the class and preparing to recite from his bible.
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