ned my point.
We chose for our school-room an unoccupied chamber at the end of a long
passage upstairs. It was furnished with a deal table and chairs, and a
small square of green carpet laid upon the sanded floor. It had three
latticed windows looking westward, and one of those odd grates I have
mentioned, large enough to cook a dinner. We kept it filled with logs,
and in the evenings, after we had drawn the curtains in the parlour, set
the tea-table, and made Mrs. Hollingford comfortable on the sofa for an
hour's rest, we three retreated to our school-room for a chat in the
firelight. Here John joined us when he happened to come home early, and
many a happy hour we passed, four of us sitting round the blazing logs,
talking and roasting apples. We told stories, tales of the outer world,
and legends of the country around us. We described places and people we
had seen, and our fancies about others we had not seen. John, who had
travelled, was the most frequent speaker; and as I was a wonder of
experience to his sisters, just so was he a wonder to me. We laughed,
cried, or listened in breathless silence, all as he willed, while the
purple and yellow lingered in the sky behind the lattice, and the
moaning of the wind through the forlorn fields, the hissing of the
roasting apples, and the crackling of the burning wood, kept up an
accompaniment to his voice.
There were other evenings, too, when John was late, and Mopsie, having
grown tired of serious talk, tripped off to hear the lasses singing Bold
Robin Hood in the kitchen. Then Jane used to open her heart to me, and
talk about the troubles of the family. Her heart was stern and bitter
against her father. Well had she said she was proud; well had her mother
wished to humble her, if that could be done. She had, I believe, a great
intellect, and she had much personal beauty of a grand character. I do
not think she thought much about the latter, but she felt her mental
powers. She knew she was fitted to move in a high sphere, and chafed
against her fate; still more against the fate of her brother.
I can see her now, on her low seat before the fire, her hands clasping
one knee, her dark head thrown back, and her eyes fixed on the dancing
shadows above the chimney.
"To think of John settling down as a farmer!" she said; "John, who for
cleverness might be prime minister. And there is no hope of his getting
away from it; none whatever."
I could not but agree to this, tho
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