CHAPTER I.—CANDIDATES.

Waikato Times, Volume IV, Issue 192, 2 August 1873, Page 2

CHAPTER I. — CANDIDATES.

Mtkiam Ciint was about to lenvo jchool. She wai not glaw of it. She wat eighteen years old. ftnd bad Her notions and her visions about ' coming out; like other girls of her age f and especially of her appearance. The time to which tbesenotions would naturally have tended, and theso visions soared,, was at hand, and yet Miriam Clint was not glad of it. This is a paradox which requires explanation. Miriam had every reason to believe that her visions would" remain entirely unfulfilled ; she had good cause to like the school at wWoh\ she had passed right, years, m tolerable comfort to herself, and harmony with her surroundings-i and she had no cause •n hatever to like home, or to anticipate that jt would be moreendurable when she returned thitlrer c for good/ than it had' been during her dismal holidays. Miriam was not of a sentimental disposition, but she had strong feelings, and a good deal of decision of character. » combination which had made her a favourite at MistMonitor's school. She war in earnest in her like* and flii- , likes ; and being a» good-natured as a clever, healthy girl usually is, especially when sue is freely acknowledged to be | much prettier than her companions, her lilies were morenumerous than dislikes. Thus, there was commotion *nd ] dismay at Cre3cent House, Hampstead, when it became known that Mr Clint had refused to accede' to Miriam* petition for ' one more half/ and that the was to go home immediately. Miriam became more emphatically than ever, ' u poor darling ;' and Mr Clint, her father, who had alway* bsen considered a * horrid man,' now received public mention as an 'old brute.' There was less injustice than uiuajly attends a sweeping censure in this designation. . Mr ( Cli#ttocu an old brute. Until within three days of the brcakingup time, Miriam had hoped to gain her fatber'a consent toner remaining at Crescent Home, root became the wished toremain, and counted on his indulgence for that' reason, but, because she honestly believed he must dislike the prospect of her return as much as she did. 1 It is impossible I can ever be anything but a tremendousbore to papa, you know,' she said, frankly, to Miss Monitor ,< with whom she was on confidential terms. ' Every one bore* % him, you know, but Walter and I bore him above and beyond every one else. I suppose it is just for appearances' sake he wants me home, and 1 can't help hoping he won't be able to resist the temptation of getting rid of roe for six more months.' Miss Monitor sliook her tight little bead, and replied r 'My dear, I should not eottnt on that, it I were. you. If your papa is having you home against bis inclination, or even without it, for appearances' sake* I can only say it is the first time I have ever heard of his making such a sacrifice. No, no, Miriam j depend upon it, you will liavo to go.' Miss Monitor was right. Suspense in the school-room, and hope in the breast of Miriam and her yonng friends, were put an end to by the arrival of the post on the following morning. Miriam opened her father's letter, and the first; glance dissipated her hopes.

The Firs, 3d June, 18-;. . Dr Miriam [' There ! ' was the girl's mental commentary ; I he is always more ill-tempered than usual when he «i» abbreviation ! What ill-tempered and ill-bred things they are ! '] — You have given me the trouble of writing two letter*, , instead one. Don't do that again. You will come homo as. arranged, on the 6th ; I hare put «n adit for a maid' in some mg papers, and directed applicants to call at Crest House to-morrew between the hours of 12 and 4. From among them you will select, with Miss M.'i advice, a suitable person, to attend upon you, make your clothes, &c. Wages £20. The person you select must be ready to come here with you on the 6th. You will come by express, leaving Lond Bge at 11 a.m.— Yrs truly, Reck Clint. Tears of anger rose in Miriam's eye«. 'It isn' only that he refuses my request, but he puts it aside in inch a cold, contemptuous way,' she muttered ; • I shall never be able to care for him in the leatt, or get on better with him ; and' I did mean to try. It's well ior Walter he's a* man ; he can do as he likes ; he is not obliged to stay at home, and put up with papa. I don't wonder at him ; I couldn't blame him for ang thing ! ' ' Miriam,' said Miss Monitor, entering the room with, her accustomed precision of step and manner, bat with a decided increase of the winter-apple colouring of her plump cheeks, ' I need not ask you what news you hare. Yourfather treat* mevrith scanty courtesy, and I suppose blames me for your unwillingness to go home. He might recognise that at least you havo been happj here.' 'He doesn't care, dear,' said Miriam, flinging her arms round Miss Monitor's prim little figure with an energy that caused that lady to rock upon her tightly shod little feet,, and obliged her to rearrange her collar, her apron, her caffs, and her neck-ribbon. 'Ho doesn't know anything about my being happy or unhappy, and as for gratitude ! — well*, never mind that. I'm grateful, ond I always shall be/ 1 1 am sure of that,' said Miss Monitor ; and then perhaps remembering that tie tone in which they were discussing. Miriam's father was not quite most appropriate to their mutual relation, she changed it for one of admonition mingled with consolation. Miriam listened with ill-disguised in* patience, and then shewed how^ery little she understood the principle of that filial obedienee~and reverence which Miss Monitor was, with some inconsistency, endeavouring to instil into her, by assuring her impetuously, thai she would, do her very best to 'put up with' her father for Miss Monitor' sake. Miss Monitor had some reason to be offend«d with Mr Clint. Hia letter to her contained the following^words,: — 'Dr Madam — Be so good as to acknowledge by return the enclosed cheque for amt of yr acct,' atod to send Miss Clint home, according to aiy directions. — Yrs truly, E»e. CXJW&Miss Monitor was not a high-minded woman, but neither was she a humbug. She did not ' train the minds of her pupils,' as the modtrn style of prospectus has it,, to any transcendental heights of principle or feeling ; she made no professions of horror at the notion of a lady's boarding school being a- speculation intended to pay, for she bad intended hers to pay, and it was pajing, and no woman in the world knew better than she did that no school could bo really ' like home, if home were all it should be. But she knew equally well, and practically that honesty is the best policy ; and she was honest according to her light. She lilted Miriam Clint, but sfie had no accurate comprehension of either her strength or her weaknesses; and she could hardly have been expected perfectly to understaad how much the girl stood in need of pity, who would have genuinely preferred to remain at Crescent House rather than return to her father's roof. To Miriam, duty translated itself by devoirs, and pleasure meant going to select evening parties, and occasionally to the opera, with one or two other flavored pupils, under the auspices of Miss Monitor ; and taking riding lessons in the early summer mornings, with her particular school friends, on which occasions the riding-master was accompanied by bis pretty yowng wife. Nothing could be more proper or more pleasant, Miriam then thought. She hated leaving all this, and she hated the thought of the home she was going to. The position of affairs seemed to. absolve Miss Monitor and Miriam from any bonds of conversational restraint. •I never was a bypoerite about it, was I, dear?' said^, Miriam. ' Don't you remember, long ago, when we did uu> compositions for Mr Walker, I never would write Itfetisrs about the pleasure of home and the delights of the country? There is no pleasure in. home to me, and I always did ancL always shall hate the country.' ' Don't say that, Miriam,' said Miss Monitor, with a wise shake of her head. ' You would like it very much if you. were married to a country gentleman with a nice property/ Miss Monitor's own vision of ultimate bliss was retirement to a cottage with a cow and a poultry yard. ' Depend on it, that would make all the difference. And, remember, you. must have gone home in order for that to happen. You could'nt hay© married here.' ' ' I'm not so sure of that,' said Miriam impetuously ; but then, recollecting herself, she added with some confusion : 'At least— l mean, something might have turned Up, yom know. However, it is all over now; and there's no good in talking about it ; but of one thing you may be certain, if ever I marry a country gentleman, he must be well enough, off to take me away from the country — no rurality for wie.'' 1 The dialogue was interrupted by Jane, a trim parlourmaid, who informed her mistress that a ' young person' badk called about the maid's place for Miss 01 int. There was an additional shade of respect in Jane's manner of mentioning* Miriam, a recognition of her added dignity in the prospective possession of her own maid. ' Take her into the waiting room, and say I will see her presently/ said Miss Monitor j and then added when Jane withdrew : 'Go and smooth your hair Miriam, and make yourself tidy before you, see this person. It would never do* for her to see you looking like that.' r Oh, what can it matter?' said Miriam rebel liously, inthe thoroughness of her ilWhumour and discontent. • The question is, whether she will suit me, not whether I shall suit her.' * There is a little of both in the question, my dear,' replied Miss Monitor decisively ; and it is alwayt worth every one's while to nink« a favorable impression.' This was one of those lessons vhieb Miss Monitor might be fully trusted to administer conscientiously to her pupil*. Miriam ran upstairs to her own room, as the bedroom she shored 1 with only one little girl, the youngest pupil, might* fairly be styled. There were no signs of packing about — she had retained "sufficient, hope to put that off to the last moment — and the room was neat and lightsome. ' She — this she,, or another — may do all that now' mused Miriam ; ' I may as well begin to make her useful. Well,, it i« some comfort to be allowed to choose for myself; ■ futlier might have inflicted som« horrid old witch of a woman upon me. In that vile place, it will be something to]ia\ c a di cant person to speak to, even if it's only a servant y. and T won't have her if she is not nice-looking.' Miriam was smoothing her hair, and looking at her face in the glow. It was a handsome face, but not ono easy to describe,

or rather, to realise from description, for it had a great W variety of looks, nnd was not equally pleasing in all. It was not an unrefined face, but it wanted the last touch of refinement which only a habit of lofty and unselfish thought gives, and it was not quite frank. It was a face which would have pleased a p unter of 11 certain school more than a physiognomist, though it did not luck either intelligence or purpose. f Miriam Clint was tall nnd well formed, with a firm, upright carriage, and a full pillarlikethro.it. Her face wns not beautiful, if one is to bow to the uvular-feature tlu-ory of beautj, for her no»e belonged to no pirtieulur order, but was simply a white, waxen little nose winch bee mo her; and her mouth was rather large. But the short, well-bred upper lip, and the strong, pleasant-looking white teeth, were handsome enough to please anybody w. ho was not too tolcllv critical ; while the nes, w'ucli looked out under a broad, smooth forehead, and straight, dark eyebrows, wero undeniably beautiful. They were not black, or of any of the shades of color which are called black ; they were not even dark, though they seemed so, m certain lights, by favour of their thick dark lashes : they were the true, rare, wonderful golden eyes ; the eyes which painters dare not imitate, unless they are cunning indeed, because the color is so subtle, and the 'light in them so living ; the eyes that are called hazel, but are not hnzel, and brownish gray, but are neither brown nor gray, nor anything but golden, though they have sometimes small brown dots beneath the lrides, w liieh enhance their beauty. These eyes were most beautiful when Miriam was troubled. Then they softened and deepened in a wonderful, touching way, nnd the observer would be moved to instant sympathy with that most besorrow. But Miriam had not yet learned the value of tins particular rharm ; her troubles had been hitherto shared and soothed by her girl companions only, and they, though loyally unanimous in decreeing to Miriam the palm of beauty — she certainly was the prettiest girl at Crescent House — were not sufficiently critical to understand why it was that Miriam did not look any le3s pretty when she cried, or was ' going to,' than at other times. If, with her golden eyes, Miriam had had fair hair, she might have had • chance of belonging to an 'order' of beauty, she might have claimed a ' style,' and been described as of the Vene- , tian school, or in the genre of Petrarch's Laura. But she had not fair hair. She bad a great quantity of rich dark9 brown hair, very glossy, and rather ' crinkly,' to use the expr*. *yve school-girl phrase. It was set around her broad, low p&tehead, so that the dusky, downy roots showed, and it marked the five points which artists bid us admire, distinctly. Miriam was rather inclined to grumble about her hair ; she had been born too late for the ' raven-locks' period, and was only to be consoled when, on close inspection, some spiral threads of vivid red were detected amid the shiny darkness of spiral threads which made little rings upon her broad temples, and curled about her ears, and on the back of her neck. Her complexion was as unfashionable as her hair. It was not dazzling ; it had no resemblance to porcelain or alabaster. It was very fair, and the blue veins showed prettily at the sides of her forehead, under the edge of her dark hair ; but she had not much color, her perfect health, only a faint tinge high up on either cheek, just where women who understand the art apply that matchless white rouge, which ' rubs in' pink, and \v ill stand anything — sun, dust, gas, the eloso inspection of the vahe, and even judicious tears. The looking-glass showed Miriam this face of hers, prettier than ever, she thought, m spite of the discontent and vexation she was gumg way to 'linnet go home to marry, must I? ' she thought, as she pulled her rich plaits of hair out, an«l stuck an additional pm here and there amid its masses. ' I don't think Charley Boscombe is of that opinion ; but he won't do He's very nice, poor boy, and I like him ; but I mean to be rich woman, and to have my own way. One can't not worth having. And now for this " maid" — it sounds have that if one isn't rich ; at least, it must bo an own way grand : I really wonder father thought it necessary to be so particular about me.' She glanced at the glass once more, and then ran down stairs. The waiting room was a small apartment behind the dining-room, of a gloomy character, and provided with furniture of a depressing tendency. It was of a ' general utility' complexion, and was the resort of everybody who had any business to transact with Miss Monitor, except 9 parents and guardians. For them were reserved the glistening splendours of the drawing-rooms, with its shell ornaments, its moral books in morocco, its grand walnut-wood piano in a speckled leather cover, and the portraits of Dr and Mrs Monitor (deceased) very high up on the panels at either side of the chimney-piece. ' You understand hair-dressing, of course 9' Miss Monitor was saying as Miriam entered frhe room, and stood, in her school-girl fashion, just within the door. — ' Ah, this is the lady who may require your services —Sit down, my dear I have been inquriug into this person's capabilities' — Miss Monitor turned to Miriam, and the ' person' did the s.une — ' and lam r.ither afraid she is not sufficiently experienced. She makes plain gowns only— would not undertake trimmed skirts. Would that do, my dear? Do dfeou not think your father wishes your maid to be an erdressmaker ?' ' I—lI — I don't exactly know. He said in his letter — here it is ' — Miriam produced the document from her apron pocket, and the ' person ' glanced at it quickly, then turned her eyes away, and sit impassive, looking nt nothing — '" She must make your clothes, &c." I mi,>; ose that means all my dresses ■• ' ' Then I am a little afraid,' began Miss Monitor, in the elaborately gracious tone of a peAon who is about to terminate an interview with a refusal. But Miriam was not disposed to settle the matter quite so quickly ; the novelty of the position pleased her. ' Oh,' she begun, ' perhaps she might do. I should like to know where she had lived, and what she can do. You were asking her whether she could dress hair. — Can you ? ' asked # Miriam, speaking directly, for the first time, to the ' person,' •whom shp had been looking at with some curiosity. The candidate did not lend herself very readily to inspection. Her manner was shy, and somewhat embaras3ed ; and her attitude, with dowcast eyes and bent head, was to match. ' I can't bear people who do not look me in the face,' thought Miriam ; 'if it were only on account of that trick, she will not suit me.' ' I can dress hair, madam/ replied the candidate in a low, sbw voice, 'in any style. You will find it mentioned in my testimonial from Lady Ware ' At this moment the great bell at the very imposing gatowav which gave admittance to Crescent House, rang loudly ; and as this occurrence indicated an exceptional arrival — there was a smaller gate in the high brick wall, for the ust of trades-people, the inmates of the house, and habitual comers — Miss Monitor approached the door, and listened for an explanation. Presently, h^avy steps crossed the hall, and there was a rustling, pleasantly suggestive of a very rich and voluminous silk gown traversing the shining tiles. c A lady and gentleman to see you, ma'am,' said Jane, who appeared with a card on a salver • ' there's a young lady with them,' she added significantly. £ 'Dear me!' exclaimed Miss Monitor.— ' Miriam, I must leave you. — I shouldn't wonder 'if they had come on business Mr and Mr 3 Dibley. I don't know the name. — Is my cap straight ? ' 'Quite. You look charming, dear.' said Miriam goodnaturedly, as she gave Miss Monitor's dress a pull here, and a pat there, towering considerably above her the while. 4 Doi^keep them waiting a minute ; don't mind me.' AtHhe sound of the bell, the candidate had moved slightly, and a cloie observer would hare noticed a certain look of eagerness in her face. She was a tall woman, rather dowdilv dressed — for a person aspiring to the smart position of lady's maid — in % brown silk gown, and a black shawl with a wide lace flounce, a garment which she huddled up over her arms in an ungraceful fashion, and in which her hands were completely hidden as she sat, in a. round-backed manner, of itself to shock Miss Monitor. During the brief dialogue that lady and Miriam, the candidate watched them with intense anxiety, unseen bv either; and when Miriam held the door open for Miss Monitor to pass through, she half rose, but instantly reseated herself befora Miriam had turned her head in her direction. 'As yo'i seem uncertain about being able to make ray dresses,' said Miriam, keeping her eyes fixed on her father's letter, and now only wishing to get rid of the candidate as qnicklv as possible, ' I fi-ar it would bo giving you useless t rouble, and taking up your time needlessly, to go into further particulars ' There wa* no reply. Miriam looked up, and saw the candidate, with one hand stretched towards her, and the finger of the other on her lip She recoiled in sudden fear, her eyes fixed on the woman's face ; a strange, incredible sense of recognition taking paralysing possession of her ' Miriam,' said the candidate, rising, ' don't be frightened ; and, above all, don't make a noi-»e. Keep your presence of mind ; there's nothing the matter.' ' Good Heavens!' cried Minnm, throwing herself into the woman's arms, and clasping her wildly about the neck : ' it's ! '

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