A few days more saw her school dress finished and at home. It looked magnificent to Rotha; far too good for a school dress. But Mrs. Mowbray said no; she must look nice in school as well as anywhere; and that very evening she brought to Rotha a box full of neat collars and cuffs and ruffles; some of plain linen and some of lighter and prettier manufacture. The supply was most abundant; and with these things were some ribbands of various colours and little silk neck ties. Rotha received them in the same mute way of speechless grat.i.tude and delight; and resolved one thing; that Mrs. Mowbray should have nothing to complain of in her, whether regarding school duties or anything else.

Another thing Mrs. Mowbray did for Rotha that week. Calling Antoinette Busby to her, at the close of a lesson, she said, "My dear, among the things sent round from your house for your cousin's use, there is no coat or cloak for cold weather wear. Will you tell your mother, Rotha's coat has not been brought with the rest of her things? Thank you. That is all, my dear."

Antoinette went home in a good deal of a fl.u.s.ter, and told her mother.

Mrs. Busby looked impenetrable.

"Now mamma, what are you going to do about it?"

"What did you say?"

"I said nothing. What could I say?"

"Did you see Rotha?"

"No; she is up stairs, getting nursed for her cold."

"Stuff!"

"Well, she had a cold, mamma. Mrs. Mowbray always finds out if the girls are shamming. She is sharp enough."

"Rotha is no more ill than I am."

"Mrs. Mowbray always sends a girl off to her room if she is out of sorts, and coddles her up with pills and tea. She don't do it unless she sees reason."

"Why didn't you ask to see Rotha? It would have looked better."

"I never thought of it," said Antoinette laughing. "Because, really, I didn't want to see her. I should rather think I didn't!"

"You had better ask to-morrow."

"Very well. And what shall I say about the coat?"

"I suppose I shall have to get her one," Mrs. Busby said grimly.

"Then she will want a hat, mamma."

"I'll send your grey plush."

"She won't wear it."

"Mrs. Mowbray will make her. _She_ won't hear nonsense."

"Who does, mamma? Not you, I am sure."

Having to do the thing, Mrs. Busby did it well, for her own sake. She would have let Rotha stay within doors all winter; but if she must get her a cloak, it should never be said she got her a poor one. Accordingly, the next day two boxes were sent round to Mrs. Mowbray's; one containing the rejected hat, the other a warm and handsome cloak, which Mrs. Busby got cheap because it was one of the last year's goods, of a fashion a little obsolete. Antoinette asked leave to see Rotha, that same day, and was refused. Mrs. Mowbray wished her to be left quite to herself. So the next time the cousins met was in cla.s.s, a day or two later. It was a cla.s.s to which Mrs. Mowbray herself gave a lesson; it was a cla.s.s of the more advanced scholars; and Antoinette, who had left her cousin in a lower department, among Miss Blodgett's pupils, was exceedingly astonished to see Rotha come in among the young ladies of the family and take her seat in the privileged library where these lessons were given.

Yet more was Antoinette astonished at her cousin's transformation. Rotha was dressed well, in the abovementioned chocolate plaid; her linen collar and cuffs were white and pretty like other people's; the dress was well made; Rotha's abundant dark hair, now growing long, was knotted up loosely at the back of her head, her collar was tied with a little cherry coloured bow; and her whole figure was striking and charming. Antoinette, who was an acknowledged beauty, felt a pang of displeasure. In fact she was so much disturbed and annoyed that her mind was quite distracted from the business in hand; she paid little attention to the lesson and rather got into disgrace. Rotha on the contrary, entering the cla.s.s and enjoying the teaching for the first time, was full of delighted interest; forgot even her new dress and herself altogether; took acute, intelligent part in the discussion that went on, (the 'subject being historical) and at one bound unconsciously placed herself at the head of the cla.s.s. There was no formal taking rank, but the judgment of all present involuntarily gave her the place. And Mrs. Mowbray herself had some difficulty not to look too often towards the face that always met hers with such sympathy and life in every feature. Many there indeed were interested; yet no eyes shewed such intelligent fire, no lips were so expressive in their play, no interest was so evidently unalloyed with any thought of self- consciousness.

As the girls scattered, after the hour was over, the cousins met.

"Well!" said Antoinette, "what's come over you?"

The tone was not pleasant. Rotha asked her distantly what she meant?

"Why I left you one thing, and I find you another," said Antoinette. "How did you get here?"

"Mrs. Mowbray desired it. I came to school to study, Antoinette. Why should I not be here?"

"But how _could_ you be here? These are the upper girls."

Rotha laughed a little. She felt very gay-hearted.

"And where did you get this?" Antoinette went on, feeling of a fold of Rotha's dress. "What beautiful cashmere! Where did you get it?"

"There came a good fairy to my room one night, and astonished me."

"A fairy!" said Antoinette.

"Yes, the days of fairies are not over. I thought they were, but I was mistaken," said Rotha joyously. "I do not think there is anything much pleasanter, than to have a good fairy come and visit you."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. Good bye--the girls are going out to walk, and I must get ready to go along."

She tripped up the stairs, leaving Antoinette mystified and crestfallen.

Under pretence of collecting her books, she lingered in one of the cla.s.s rooms in the lower story, waiting to see the girls pa.s.s out, which they always did, she knew, by the lower door. They came presently in long file. The families that sent their daughters to Mrs. Mowbray's were generally of the wealthier portions of society; and it was a well dressed set that defiled before Antoinette's eyes; too well, for many of them were unbecomingly fine. Antoinette did not recognize her cousin until she was quite out upon the street and turned her face casually to speak to some one behind her. The new cloak, of dark green stun 7, was as handsome as Antoinette's own; and there was no old grey plush hat above it. No such matter; a neat little green hat, perfectly simple, but new and well made and well fitting, shaded a face full of merry sparkle, totally unlike the depressed, cloudy expression Antoinette had been used to despise at home. She told her mother with an injured air what she had seen. Mrs. Busby said nothing. It was vexatious; at the same time she reflected that the credit of all this would redound to herself n.o.body but Mrs. Mowbray and Rotha herself knew whence came the dresses and bonnet, and they would not tell, naturally. On the whole the gain was as great as the loss.

But to Rotha now-a-days it was all gain. That walk with the girls; how pleasant it was, to go with free step, conscious that there was nothing in her appearance to draw remark or provoke pity. At Rotha's age, perhaps as much as ever, such an immunity is prized and enjoyed. It was such a walk as till then she had never taken in the streets of New York; for even when, two or three years ago, she had gone with her mother, it was with a feeling of being cla.s.sed with the mult.i.tude of the poor and struggling and ill-dressed. So the walking had been mainly in streets where such cla.s.ses were lodged and at home. Now Rotha went where the buildings were fine and the ways broad, and where the pa.s.sers-by were gay and splendid. Her breath came freer, her step grew more elastic, the colour rose in her cheeks; and when the little procession returned home, Miss Parsons, who had been in charge of it, remarked to Mrs. Mowbray that she had no idea before what a very handsome girl Miss Carpenter was. And Mrs. Mowbray, when they all gathered to dinner, cast a keen glance at the new member of the company. She was rea.s.sured; not a particle of self- consciousness was to be traced in the fine, bright, spirited lace, though the beauty was unquestioned.

That was the first time Rotha had met the family at table. It was a new and highly interesting experience for her. The table was very long; and the mere sight of so many fresh young faces together was inspiriting of itself; of greatest interest to Rotha because these were her companions, fellow pupils, sharers in work and play together. But apart from its living surroundings, the board excited Rotha's keenest attention. The delicacy and order of its arrangements, the beauty of its appointments, the abundance of the supply, the excellence of the material. Everything there was of the best; everything was well cooked and appetizing; it was a simple table, as it should be, but no provision for health or comfort was wanting. Rotha felt herself at home in surroundings that suited her.

Then it was a lively meal; not a bit of stagnation. At Mrs. Busby's the talk at table was about nothing to stir the slightest interest, to any one whose soul was not in a condition to be fed with the very dryest of social husks; the only exceptions being when Mr. and Mrs. Busby got into a debate. A debate always has some elements of interest, if there is any wit on either side of it. Here, the first thing, after the carving was well begun, was the reciting of French anecdotes or sayings or quotations, by each of the scholars in turn; the exercise being superintended by the French teacher, a very imposing person in Rotha's eyes, to whom she had just that day been introduced. It was very amusing to her to hear the differing accent, the varying voices, and to watch the different air and manner of the girls, as Mme. Bonton's voice, uttering "Suivante"--"Suivante"--called them up one after another. She herself, of course, had no little speech prepared. Then the conversation became general, as the business of dining went on its way, and Mrs. Mowbray made part of it very interesting. Altogether, it was a time of delight to Rotha.

Not less so were the hours of study that followed. It was one of her good properties, that she could easily concentrate all her attention on the one thing she happened to have in hand. So study was study to her; deep, absorbing, conquering, and of course triumphing. And when the bell summoned the family to tea, she came fresh for new pleasure to a.s.semble with the rest.

The parlours were cleared of the long table now; only enough of it being left to accommodate the younger scholars who might not be trusted to hold a cup of tea safely. The girls brought their various pieces of fancy work; the rooms were well lighted, well furnished, the walls hung with engravings and paintings, the mantelpieces full of pretty things; it was not like a school, but like a large, elegant family gathering. Here the tea was handed round, with rolls and excellent cake and biscuits. Mrs.

Mowbray presently called Rotha to her side, by the big table; and held a little quiet talk with her about the course of the day, introducing her at the same time to several of her schoolmates. I can never tell how the girl's whole nature opened and expanded, like a suddenly blossoming rose, under the genial, kindly atmosphere and culture into which she now came.

Study? She studied with a consuming kind of intensity. Not a teacher that she had to do with, but took delight in her. She gave them absolutely no trouble. She was not a timid girl; so was not, like some, hindered by nervousness from making a fair presentation of herself. Her mind was opening, greedy for the food it got, and taking it in rapidly.

And happy? There was not seemingly a happier girl in the house. Crowding new interests had driven into the background, for the time, the demands of conscience; and Rotha was one of those people whose cup of life is a large one; capacities of heart and intellect alike wide in their possibilities, but if satisfied, making existence very rich. She was quiet enough in manner, never forgetting her beloved model; yet eye and lip and varying colour, and the involuntary movement of head and hand, and foot too, testified to the glad growing life of her soul. Mrs.

Mowbray saw it with perpetual satisfaction; it got to be a habit with her that her eye sought and rested on that one unmistakeably honest and loyal member of her family. And Rotha's eye never met hers but there came a sparkle and a look of love into the young face.

All day was a delight now to the girl; beginning with the morning prayers, which to be sure she loved mostly because she heard Mrs.

Mowbray's voice in them. Then came breakfast; bright and cheery, with the hope and the work of the day in prospect, and a lively, pretty, pleasant table and company in possession. It was not like school; it was a large family; where all arrangements and supplies were as in the best appointed private house, and the only rules that reigned were the rules of good manners. Then came the brisk walk in the bracing morning air; and then, study. Some lesson hours were particularly interesting to Rotha. Latin she did not like, but French she took to kindly; and Madame Bonton told madame with a satisfied nod of her head, that Miss Carpenter was "not a soap bubble",--high praise, which only a few of the girls ever attained.

Among her schoolmates Rotha made no particular friends. Some of them asked captiously who she was? others remarked critically that she thought herself too good looking; others declared enviously that she was a "favourite." Rotha did not take to any of them; made no confident of any of them; and was felt by most of them to be somehow uncongenial. Those who saw most of her felt this most decidedly. She presently was out of favour with all her roommates.

It was a rule of the house that lights should be all out at ten o'clock.