The Master of the Priory Read Online Free Page B

quiver of the lips. “I hope I shall give you satisfaction, Lady Davenant, and so justify her kind recommendation of me.”
    Lady Davenant felt vaguely chilled. She had been certain of liking Miss Martin, Mrs. Sunningdale’s enthusiasm about her had been quite infectious; she felt sure they had secured just the right person for Maisie, but now she began to wonder whether this grave, stiffly-spoken person would not depress her bright little grand-daughter.
    â€œMrs. Sunningdale was much disappointed you were not able to go back to India,” she went on after a pause. “You had been three years with them, I think?”
    The hands that lay on Miss Martin’s knee were trembling in spite of her self-control.
    â€œThree years,” she assented in a low voice. “My health broke down then. My doctor told me it was hopeless to think of going out again.”
    â€œSo I understand,” Lady Davenant said sympathetically. “I hope you will soon get strong here in our pure country air.”
    â€œOh, I am quite strong now, thank you,” Miss Martin hastened to assure her. “It—it was only that India did not suit me. Am I to see my pupil to-night, Lady Davenant?”
    Lady Davenant laughed a little. “Well, I really don’t know. I am afraid Maisie has been terribly spoiled, Miss Martin. Her father lets her have her own way a great deal too much, but under present circumstances it is very difficult—I am sure Mrs. Sunningdale would explain to you—you know that your duties are not only confined to teaching Maisie, for the present at any rate.”
    â€œI know,” Miss Martin assented gravely. “I am to read to Sir Oswald for some time every day; also to write his letters from his dictation.”
    â€œYes.” Lady Davenant acquiesced with a sigh. “Until recently we have had a distant cousin with us, Sybil Lorrimer, and she has managed everything for him, but she has been summoned away by the sudden illness of her father, so we want you to take her place. Sir Oswald’s man is admirable in many ways, but my poor boy cannot endure his reading or his writing. You know that it is not a hopeless case, Miss Martin. The doctors say that there is very little doubt that Sir Oswald will recover his sight in time.”
    â€œOh, I do hope so,” Miss Martin said earnestly. “It must be so terrible to be blind.”
    â€œIt is indeed! Especially for poor Oswald, who always hated inactivity. It is a year and a half since it happened. I know he often finds it almost unendurable. It was a terrible accident, the left wing of this house was on fire, and his wife was in her room overcome by the smoke. He had seen her out once, but she went back to fetch something. At first it seemed hopeless, but Oswald was like a madman, he would not believe that she could not be reached and he tied ladders together and insisted on going up himself. He reached her—oh, yes—but she was insensible, and he had to begin that terrible descent with a dead weight in his arms. The flames were pouring out of the lower story; they caught the ladder—it collapsed and brought them both to the ground. Poor Winifred was dead when they took her up, and Oswald was terribly injured; for weeks we despaired of his recovery, and when at last he did come back to life it was to find his sight gone, temporarily at any rate. Maisie was five and a half then—she is seven now—and the whole thing made a great impression on her. She is an extraordinarily sensitive child, and she is a great comfort to her father, so that I dare say you can understand she has been indulged. Not that I find any fault with her myself, she is a dear child. But Sybil said she was getting spoiled and that we ought to have a governess for her. Then we were fortunate enough to hear of you from Mrs. Sunningdale, and that is all, I think. Except about this afternoon. Maisie has taken it into her head to