The unblemished reputation of the bedroom was dear to Emily,in her capacity of queen.She felt herself humiliated in the presence of the new pupil.
"If that fat girl ever gets a lover,"she said indignantly,"Ishall consider it my duty to warn the poor man before he marries her.Her ridiculous name is Euphemia.I have christened her (far more appropriately)Boiled Veal.No color in her hair,no color in her eyes,no color in her complexion.In short,no flavor in Euphemia.You naturally object to snoring.Pardon me if I turn my back on you--I am going to throw my slipper at her."The soft voice of Cecilia--suspiciously drowsy in tone--interposed in the interests of mercy.
"She can't help it,poor thing;and she really isn't loud enough to disturb us.""She won't disturb you,at any rate!Rouse yourself,Cecilia.
We are wide awake on this side of the room--and Francine says it's our turn to amuse her."A low murmur,dying away gently in a sigh,was the only answer.
Sweet Cecilia had yielded to the somnolent influences of the supper and the night.The soft infection of repose seemed to be in some danger of communicating itself to Francine.Her large mouth opened luxuriously in a long-continued yawn.
"Good-night!"said Emily.
Miss de Sor became wide awake in an instant.
"No,"she said positively;"you are quite mistaken if you think Iam going to sleep.Please exert yourself,Miss Emily--I am waiting to be interested."Emily appeared to be unwilling to exert herself.She preferred talking of the weather.
"Isn't the wind rising?"she said.
There could be no doubt of it.The leaves in the garden were beginning to rustle,and the pattering of the rain sounded on the windows.
Francine (as her straight chin proclaimed to all students of physiognomy)was an obstinate girl.Determined to carry her point she tried Emily's own system on Emily herself--she put questions.
"Have you been long at this school?"
"More than three years."
"Have you got any brothers and sisters?"
"I am the only child."
"Are your father and mother alive?"
Emily suddenly raised herself in bed.
"Wait a minute,"she said;"I think I hear it again.""The creaking on the stairs?"
"Yes."
Either she was mistaken,or the change for the worse in the weather made it not easy to hear slight noises in the house.The wind was still rising.The passage of it through the great trees in the garden began to sound like the fall of waves on a distant beach.It drove the rain--a heavy downpour by this time--rattling against the windows.
"Almost a storm,isn't it?"Emily said Francine's last question had not been answered yet.She took the earliest opportunity of repeating it:
"Never mind the weather,"she said."Tell me about your father and mother.Are they both alive?"Emily's reply only related to one of her parents.
"My mother died before I was old enough to feel my loss.""And your father?"
Emily referred to another relative--her father's sister."Since Ihave grown up,"she proceeded,"my good aunt has been a second mother to me.My story is,in one respect,the reverse of yours.
You are unexpectedly rich;and I am unexpectedly poor.My aunt's fortune was to have been my fortune,if I outlived her.She has been ruined by the failure of a bank.In her old age,she must live on an income of two hundred a year--and I must get my own living when I leave school.""Surely your father can help you?"Francine persisted.
