Chapter III
This is a bit shorter than some of the other chapters but I've finished my exams and have more time for updating so hopefully there will be another chapter soon!
The evening which followed my visit to the school was dismal. I came home to find Papa sitting in the library. It was dark and gloomy in the room despite the daylight outside, Papa's candle had burned down to a dying stub on the table. His book lay open at the foot of his chair and the fire had not yet been lit as was usual. He must have fallen asleep while reading; he was weak of late and slept more often during the day. I quietly retrieved the book from the floor and placed it on the table. It frightened me a little to see him so still and quiet.
"Rosamond?" said Papa in a startled voice "Is it you?"
"Yes Papa," I said, bending down and placing a kiss on his head.
"Ah, forgive me," he said in a calmer tone "I think I must have fallen asleep."
"Yes Papa, I think you had," I smiled.
"Have you been here long?"
"No, I am only just back."
"From the school? How was your visit?" he asked, looking more his usual self as he began to shake off his drowsiness, "Sit by me and tell me about it; I would have come with you if I had not felt so tired today. But the fire is not lit," he observed.
"I will ring," I said, going to the bell.
The footman presently arrived, the fire was lit, and tea brought up.
"How was the school mistress—Miss Elliott? You praised her highly after your last visit."
"Oh, yes, she was very well and looked more settled than before. I am sure, Papa, you could not find anyone better suited to the position—except that she is perhaps a little above it; she is so very clever and refined."
"It pleases me to hear that," he replied "And I am glad of the interest you take in the school. You are a good girl Rosamond," he said, taking my hand affectionately.
"I am only so because of my good Papa," I answered smilingly.
"Rosamond," he said with a sigh "you are too young and gay to be here alone with me." He looked sullenly at the fire for a moment. "Was St John at the school?" he asked as if the two ideas were connected.
"Yes, how did you know Papa?"
"He told me he intended to give daily readings for the benefit of the pupils. How was he? Well I hope? I regret his father's death very much, Mr Rivers was a good man and now, with his sisters gone, St John is alone. It is a solitary life for him."
"Yes, I am sad he is alone."
"He should visit more often. He has not been here in weeks and I do so enjoy his conversation."
I remembered the cheerful evenings I had passed with St John; less than a year ago he had looked upon me with something like warmth, spoken to me with something near affection but since his father's death he had been so cold, so removed. After his father had died he had visited us and told Papa that he meant to become a missionary, whether it was this or some other cause that had altered his regard I could not be sure, but I was grieved by the alteration.
"Do not look so sad. I do not say that I prefer his company to yours, my darling," said Papa, seeing my melancholy expression and mistaking its origin.
"I did not think so Papa," I replied, trying to look less forlorn.
Dinner passed quietly, I was musing on St John and Papa was tired and said little. I went to bed early and read until it was dark.
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