of the same colour at the throat, and the hair was simply folded round
the head, but it was magnificent raven hair; the head and neck were
grandly made; the form finely proportioned, on a large scale; the face
really beautiful, in a pale, dark, Italian style; the complexion of the
clearest olive, but as she became aware of the presence of the visitors
it became overspread with a lovely hue of red; while the eyelids revealed
a superb pair of eyes, liquid depths of rich brown, soft and languid, and
befitting the calm dignity with which she rose, curtseyed, and signed to
her scholars to do the same; the deepening colour alone betraying any
sense of being taken by surprise.

Lucilla danced up to her, chattering with her usual familiar, airy grace.
'Well, Edna, how are you getting on? Have I brought a tremendous host to
invade you? I wanted Miss Charlecote to see you, for she is a perfect
connoisseur in schools.'

Edna's blush grew more carnation, and the fingers shook so visibly with
which she held the work, that Honora was provoked with Lucy for
embarrassing the poor young thing by treating her as an exhibition,
especially as the two young gentlemen were present, Robert with his back
against the door-post in a state of resignation, Owen drawing Phoebe's
attention to the little ones whom he was puzzling with incomprehensible
remarks and questions. Hoping to end the scene, Honor made a few
commonplace inquiries as to the numbers and the habits of the school; but
the mistress, though preserving her dignity of attitude, seemed hardly
able to speak, and the curate replied for her.

'I see,' said Lucilla, 'your eye keeps roaming to the mischief my naughty
brother is doing among the fry down there.'

'Oh, no! ma'am. I beg your pardon--'

'Never mind, I'll remove the whole concern in a moment, only we must have
some singing first.'

'Don't, Lucy!' whispered Honor, looking up from an inspection of some not
first-rate needlework; 'it is distressing her, and displays are contrary
to all rules of discipline.'

'Oh! but you must,' cried Cilly. 'You have not seen Wrapworth without.
Come, Edna, my bonnie-bell,' and she held out her hand in that
semi-imperious, semi-caressing manner which very few had ever withstood.

'One song,' echoed Owen, turning towards the elder girls. 'I know you'll
oblige me; eh, Fanny Blake?'

To the scholars the request was evidently not distasteful; the more
tuneful were gathering together, and