She would cry out that the fiends were coming to drag her down to
torment, and dash herself against the wall, in fear hideous to behold.
Then it was found that there was but one way to calm her: it was to send
for Beatrice. Beatrice would come and take the poor thin hands in hers
and gaze with her calm deep eyes upon the wasted horror-stricken face
till the child grew quiet again and, shivering, sobbed herself to sleep
upon her breast.
And so it was with all the children; her power over them was almost
absolute. They loved her, and she loved them all.
And now the schooling was almost done for the day. It was Beatrice's
custom to make the children sing some simple song before they broke
up. She stood in front of them and gave the time while they sung, and a
pretty sight it was to see her do it. On this particular afternoon, just
as the first verse was finished, the door of the room opened, and Owen
Davies entered, bearing some books under his arm. Beatrice glanced round
and saw him, then, with a quick stamp of her foot, went on giving the
time.
The children sung lustily, and in front of them stood Beatrice, dressed
in simple white, her graceful form swaying as she marked the music's
time.
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