The Revenant Read Free

was made large by the narrowness of the bed at the center. A small desk and wooden chair stood against the opposite wall near a cast-iron radiator—something I’d only seen in the most recently constructed buildings back home. My eyes were drawn to the golden light streaming through the bay windows. A large chiffonier stood between the windows, but even so, I could see the wall was curiously curved. I gaped like a child. This curved bay was formed from one of the turrets I’d marveled at when walking toward the school.
    By no means was it an elegant room, but compared to what I’d grown accustomed to, it was quite spacious and well appointed. And wouldn’t Papa have been delighted to know that his princess lived in a turret?
    “I trust this room is sufficient?” asked Miss Crenshaw after a moment.
    “Yes,” I breathed. “Very much so.”
    “It was a student room. Four girls slept here in two beds, but we’ve had changes in enrollment and those girls are now situated elsewhere. I thought it would make a spacious dwelling for our new teacher.” She gestured toward the windows. “You’ll get a nice breeze during the warm months, and steam heat keeps us cozy enough in the winter.”
    “I am very grateful, Miss Crenshaw.”
    We stood in awkward silence for a moment. Had I not thanked her sufficiently? Fortunately, I was saved by the sound of swishing fabric at the door. We both turned to find a lady standing there—surely this was a lady teacher and not a student, for though she was much younger than the principal, she had the stiff spine and graceful bearing of one who held authority. Her eyebrows, however, were arched in surprise.
    “Ah, Miss Adair,” said Miss Crenshaw. “Meet your new colleague, Miss Angeline McClure. She hails from Columbia, Tennessee, and is a graduate of their Athenaeum.”
    The lady’s vague alarm melted into a smile as she stepped closer. Her eyes were dark and prettily framed by long lashes. She took my hand and grasped it firmly.
    “Olivia was once my student, and a very fine one at that,” said Miss Crenshaw. “She is one of a select group of Cherokee ladies who have both studied and taught at the seminary. So you see, Miss McClure, how far these girls have come from their humble beginnings?”
    Miss Adair lowered her head. It wasn’t clear whether she was pleased or embarrassed by the principal’s praise.
    Before I could speak, Miss Crenshaw lifted her brooch watch and clucked her tongue. “There is so much to do and already it is nearly time for supper. Olivia, will you take Miss McClure on the tour?”
    Miss Adair led me back downstairs and paused first at the parlor door. The room glowed softly in the late-afternoon light. I stepped inside, bracing myself for the eerie blast of cold air. But I did not shiver, nor did gooseflesh prickle my arms. The room was quite warm. Had I imagined the earlier chill?
    “The girls do not spend much time here,” said Miss Adair, “unless it is to clean the room or, more rarely, to receive family or visitors from the male seminary.”
    “There is a Cherokee Male Seminary as well?” I asked.
    “Oh yes. Its enrollment is not as high as ours, and their building is much older, but it’s a fine school. You will see the male students in town, and they will visit here from time to time.”
    Across from the vestibule stood a library with handsomely arching windows and endless shelves of books. Tables and chairs gleamed in the warm light, and I was certain a gloved finger traced along the wood’s surface would remain pristinely white. We moved on to view several classrooms full of wooden desks, the sight of which made my stomach flutter. At the far end of the building was a high-ceilinged chapel, full of desks rather than pews, that extended into another large room set up as a study hall. We completed our first-floor tour by making our way to the other end of the building, past more schoolrooms and around the corner to a grand dining hall