She promised not to recommence her offences and implored Lady Flayskin to intervene and stop the flogging. Then she entreated Mr. Gostock to intercede with the directress that the latter might take pity upon her and pardon her.
She could not have entreated a deafer ear. For though at the time I was too much affected to notice Mr. Gostock, my observations later on showed me that this gentleman experienced the height of pleasure in watching the whipping of boys and girls by charming little Miss Sinclair. For from being likely to intercede for would, on the contrary, have been for a conti- nuation of operations, so enamoured was he or this kind of spectacle. This curious disposition of mind on the part of the gentleman will be clearly shown by the events which followed and which I shall relate in their own place. I must not anticipate.
No answer was made to the entreaties of the victim. Lady Flayshin, always the flawless and faultless woman of fashion, never for a moment forgetting that she was a rich American and a member of the innermost circle of British aristocracy, assumed a variety of attitudes while talking to Mr. Gostock, who replied to her in equally lofty tones. But, never for a moment did he cease to watch the elegant motion of the graceful white arm wielding the rod with unfailing energy and skill, and as gracefully as though it had been a fan.
At length, after a furious blow, to which reply was given in a despairing shriek, the torture ended.
Wretched Clara, slipping down upon her knees, wept with her head in her hands at the termination of the punishment, his prayers the side of the table upon which she had been whipped. No one paid any further attention to her. Miss Sinclair, on the other hand, received many congratulations.
The directress inquired in tones of some anxiety:
'I trust you are not over-fatigued? '
'Not in the least, dear Lady Flayshin.'
'What energy! What skill!' exclaimed Mr. Gostock. 'Allow me to congratulate you very sincerely, my dear, charming Miss Sinclair. But truly… You are not fatigued? No? I am afraid you do not feel equal to conducting the second whipping.
'It is now the matter of a boy's… ahem!
You understand my meaning? If the rod is not applied with severity, it will only cause him to laugh.'
'Make your mind easy on that score, dear Lady Flayskin. I will make him shriek!'
At this assurance, of such interest for myself, the enthusiasm of Mr. Gostock knew to bounds. In tones thrilling with joy and admiration, he suggested:
'Rest yourself, if only for a moment, dear Miss Sinclair and take some refreshment.'
'I am much obliged to you,' replied Miss Sinclair, in her most bewitching tones.
In response to the electric bell, a maid came and was given an order. She returned a moment afterwards with a decanter, three wine-glasses and some biscuits. Miss Sinclair was the first to be handed a glass of old port, needless to say with much effusion by Mr. Gostock. She sipped her wine and nibbled her biscuit in the mincing manner of a cat, but with an air of perfect breeding. The other two glasses were for the American and the headmistress. Not even Mrs. Stuart was asked to 57
join in the refreshements. With a peevish air she sat apart and was able to do as we did, that is to say, to look on.
But the age of the wine and the delicacy of the biscuits were at the time matters of no moment to me.
Miss Sinclair's affirmation had greatly increased my distress. I did not doubt but that she would keep her word and would make me shriek. I could not rid my mind of her intention. But I registered an inward promise that I would make no sound at all. By my attitude of contempt, I would affirm the enduring power of my sex. They should see that a little boy had a spirit of more mettle, if not tougher than a mere little girl.
Miss Sinclair, however, was interrupted in her sipping that she might tell weeping Clara to go on her knees by the side of the high desk, keeping her petticoats raised as before. Her drawers being still down at her heels, her swollen hinder charms were to be looked at by all the scholars. The slender twigs of the birch had traced quite a network of weals of a livid red hue gradually getting purple.
The unhappy child obeyed, sobbing in a, heart-broken manner. By a refinement of cruelty, pretty Miss Sinclair went to the cupboard and took out a mirror which she placed on the ground behind Clara, telling the child to look therein at the pitiful state of her thighs. The effect of this counsel was a fresh outburst of grief.
No one, however, paid any attention to me. I seemed to have been totally forgotten. But I noticed, on all sides, covert glances in my direction. Some of the pupils fixed a compassionate gaze upon me; but most seemed to be simply in a state of curiosity not unmixed with cruel satisfaction.
At length Miss Sinclair, the directress, and Mr. Gostock put down their empty glasses at the same moment and brushed the biscuit crumbs from their hands.
Miss Sinclair looked in my direction and raised a finger as a sign to me. The gesture was imperious. I trembled and I think I became deathly pale. The idea of disobeying did not so much as occur to me. Tottering on my hateful Louis XV, heels, my fet crushed and tortured in the ridiculous raised arched boots, I drew near the table of execution. Pretty Stella hade only to make a sign and with the docility of a lamb, I took the same position as Clara had done previously. That is to say, I lay upon it with my face thrust forwards and down wards, away from the executioner, and with my arms extended. Mrs. Stuart immediately caught hold of my wrists, and, in anticipation of possible resistance, knotted them together with a handkerchief. A quick hand raised my muslin skirts and drew them over my head which was thus muffled therein. My drawers were unfastened and slipped down my stupid black stockings to my dishonouring boots with their high insteps, and an unpleasant chilliness proved to me that my bare thighs were already delighting the class. I felt choked by an inexpressible feeling of shame. I was sick at heart and felt that I should never again be able to hold up my head.
I then knew for myself that terrible agony of waiting which had been endured by Clara. For I also, during a space of time which seemed to me endless, had to await the good pleasure of pretty imperious Miss Sinclair. As in the case of her first victim she addressed me in dulcet, honeyed tones, though they reached my ears strangely stifled by my petticoats. And this warning that she was about to begin threw me again into the most poignant sufferings at a moment when, owing to having waited so long, blessed insensibility had been creeping over me. I was beginning yet again to forget my horrible position when the first blow struck me across the thighs and all my fine resolutions disappeared like smoke, for I shrieked with all the strength of my lungs and cried for mercy like the veriest abject coward.
But the only response to my wails was the terrible birch, stinging like a nest of vipers.
Ah, that atrocious suffering and, more pain ful still, the dire humiliation! I wept, cried, shrieked, sobbed. I promised to be good and patient. I declared that not only would I never be annoyed again on account of a wret ched ball of paper soaked in spittle, but that they might spit upon my face and I would not mind. The beating continued pitilessly. I threw my head from side to side and stretched my back to the right and to the left in an effort to free myself. The handkerchief which bound me enabled Mrs. Stuart to resist all my struggles.
At length, Miss Sinclair ceased whipping I had to go on my knees at the side of the table to match Clara on the other side. The mirror showed my hinder parts to be covered with blood. Nor was I permitted to leave my position there before the end of lesson time. Meantime my posterior in its wretched plight was the cynosure of every mocking pupil's eye.
CHAPTER III
With the feminine costume I acquired more and more unmistakably feminine gait. Indeed, during our playtime, for the mistress permitted us to play a few of those games popular with little girls, it would happen that should I miss a ball, I would open my legs to catch it in my skirt instead of closing my knees together to prevent the ball running through, as little boys do. Accustomed to high heels, I would walk with little prim steps, wriggling my hips.
Lady Flayskin complimented me upon the way I held myself and upon my care for my clothes.
The carriage of my head did not entirely please her. My under jaw was prominent and massive, like that of a wolf, she told me. Before being entrusted to the hands of Betsy and entering this school, I had threatened to become a real wild beast; a savage brute. I had a propensity, I may add, to thrust forward my neck like one who is ready to face friends and foes alike with equal fearlessness. This combative advance of my chin was displeasing to
