I said good night. I liked her. She amused me and was comforting to know that I had pleasant companions like those I had met on this night. I brushed my hair and undressed quickly. On the table there was a mirror and I guessed that was one of the modern concessions which Daisy liked to stress. I felt the bed. It was narrow as befitted my -Bell-like room, but it seemed comfortable.
I got into bed and pulled the sheets up round me. It was difficult to get to sleep. The day had been too exciting and my surroundings were so unusual. I lay with the sheets up to my chin thinking about it all and wondering about-and yes, looking forward to-the future.
I wanted most of all to make the acquaintance of the girls.
As the time passed I seemed to grow more and more wide awake. It is always difficult to sleep in few places and when one is in an ancient abbey, full of the impressions of another age, it is only natural that one should be wakeful. I turned to the wall and stared at it. There was enough light coming through the narrow window to show me the marks on the grey stone, and I wondered how many monks had lain staring at the walls during long nights of meditation and prayer.
Then suddenly I was alert. I had heard a faint sound and it was not far away-a quick intake of breath and then a suppressed sob.
I sat up in bed listening. Silence and then ... yes. There it was again. Someone not very far away from me was crying and trying to stifle the sound.
I got out of bed, felt for my slippers and put on my dressing gown. The sound was coming from the room on my right ... one of the rooms of which I was to be in charge.
I went into the corridor, my slippers making a faint sound on the flagged stone.
"Who's there?" I said quietly.
I heard the quick intake of breath. There was no answer.
"Is anything wrong? Just answer me."
"N ... no," said a frightened voice.
I had located the room and I pushed open the door. In the dim light I saw two beds and in one of them a girl was sitting up. As my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom I saw that she had long fair hair and wide startled eyes, and must be about sixteen or seventeen years old.
"What's wrong?" I said. "I'm the new mistress." She nodded and her teeth started to chatter. "It's nothing ... nothing," she began.
"It must be something," I said. I went to her bed and sat down on it. "You're unhappy about something, aren't you?" She regarded me solemnly with those wide scared eyes. "You needn't be afraid of me," I went on. "I know what it is to be homesick. That's it, isn't it? I went away to school ... in Switzerland actually ... when I was your age."
"D ... did you?" she stammered.
"Yes, so you see, I know all about it."
"I'm not homesick ... because you can't be sick about what isn't, can you?"
I was remembering. "I think I know who you are. You're Teresa Hurst, and you've been staying at the school during the holiday."
She seemed relieved that I knew so much.
"Yes," she said. "And you're Miss Grant. I knew you were coming.
"I'm to be in charge of this section."
"It won't be so bad when the others come. It's rather frightening at night when it's all so quiet." "There's nothing to be frightened of really. Your parents are in Africa, aren't they?"
She nodded. "Rhodesia," she added.
"I know what it feels like, because funnily enough my parents were in Africa too. They were missionaries and they couldn't have me with them so I was sent home to my Aunt Patty."
`I was sent to my mother's cousins."
"What a coincidence! So we were both in the came boat. I hated the thought of coming to England and leaving my parents. I was scared.
Then I came to my Aunt Patty and that was lovely."
"My cousins don't really want me. They always make excuses at holiday times. The children have measles, or they are going away ... and so I stay at school. I think I'd really rather. It's just at night ..."
"I shall be here now and the girls will be coming on Tuesday."
Yes, that makes it better. Did you mind going me to your Aunt Patty?"
"I loved it. She is the best aunt anybody ever had, and I've still got her."
"That must be lovely."
"Yes, it is. Anyway I'm here now. I'm sleeping close to you. If you are frightened, just come and tell me. Will that be all right?"
"Yes, that will be lovely."
"I'll say goodnight then. Are you all right now?"
"Yes. I'll know you're there. It's only that sometimes the girls laugh at me. They think I'm a bit of a baby."
"I'm sure you're not that."
"You see they go to their homes and they never want to come back to school. They love the holidays. I dread them. It makes a difference."
"Yes, I know. But you'll be all right. You and I will be friends, and you'll know I'm here to help you."
"I think it's funny that your parents were in Africa too."
"Yes, quite extraordinary, isn't it? Clearly we were meant to be friends."
"I'm glad," she said.
"I'll tuck you in. Do you think you could go to sleep now?"
"Yes, I think so, and I won't mind if I think I see ... shadows. I'll know I can come to you. You did mean that, didn't you?"
"I did. But I don't think you'll be coming because everything is going to be all right. Good night, Teresa."
"Good night, Miss Grant."
I went back to my room. Poor lonely child! I was glad I had heard her and had been able to give her a little comfort. I would look out for her in the days ahead and make sure she was not bullied.
I took some time to get warm enough for sleep but I think that Little encounter had soothed me as well as Teresa Hurst and finally I did sleep. I had wild dreams though. I dreamed that I was riding through the pave in a carriage and I was aware of the mighty buttresses on either side of the carriage and the blue sky overhead. Suddenly another carriage was blocking the way and I saw a man .serge from it. He looked in at my window at me and shouted: "Go back. You are in my way." It was a- wild dark face; then it changed suddenly and it was that of Edward Compton.
I awoke uneasily and for a moment wondered where I was.
Only a dream, I told myself. I did dream more than I used to. It was ever since I had met the stranger in the forest.
I awoke, sat up in bed and looked at the bare stone walls and sparse furnishings, and a feeling of excitement swept over me.
I washed and dressed. I took a look into Teresa Hurst's room. Her bed was neatly made and she was not there. I wondered if I was late.
I found my way down to the room in which we'd dined on the previous evening. Daisy was seated at the table and Mademoiselle Dupont and Frâulein Kutcher were with her.
"Good morning," said Daisy. "I trust you slept well."
I thanked her and told her that I had.
I acknowledged the greetings of the others and Daisy signed for me to be seated.
"In between terms we breakfast between seven thirty and eight thirty," she said. "In term it is seven thirty, and two of the mistresses supervise in the main dining room where the girls eat. After that it is prayers in the hall and we usually have a little talk-not more titan five minutes-given by one of us. Something uplifting ... a sort of text for the day. We take it in turns. Lessons start at nine. Do help yourself from the sideboard. We are rather unceremonious at breakfast."
While I was helping myself to cold York ham and coffee, Eileen Eccles came in.
I sat at the table and we talked of the school-or mainly Daisy did; the rest of us listened. As the newcomer, many of her remarks were addressed to me.