Ewriting Format by Carl Peterson © 2001

CHAPTER I - THE PARSONAGE
ALL true histories contain instruction;
though,
in some,
the treasure may be hard
to find,
and when found,
so trivial in quantity,
that the dry,
shrivelled kernel scarcely compensates
for the trouble of cracking the nut.

Whether this be the case
with my history or not,
I am hardly competent
to judge.

I sometimes think it might prove useful
to some,
and entertaining
to others;
but the world may judge
for itself.

Shielded by my own obscurity,
and by the lapse of years,
and a few fictitious names,
I do not fear
to venture;
and will candidly lay before the public what I would not disclose
to the most intimate friend.My father was a clergyman of the north of England,
who was deservedly respected by all who knew him;
and,
in his younger days,
lived pretty comfortably on the joint income of a small incumbency and a snug little property of his own.

My mother,
who married him against the wishes of her friends,
was a squire's daughter,
and a woman of spirit.

In vain it was represented
to her,
that if she became the poor parson's wife,
she must relinquish her carriage and her lady's-maid,
and all the luxuries and elegancies of affluence;
which
to her were little less than the necessaries of life.

A carriage and a lady's-maid were great conveniences;
but,
thank heaven,
she had feet
to carry her,
and hands
to minister
to her own necessities.

An elegant house and spacious grounds were not
to be despised;
but she would rather live in a cottage
with Richard Grey than in a palace
with any other man in the world.Finding arguments of no avail,
her father,
at length,
told the lovers they might marry if they pleased;
but,
in so doing,
his daughter would forfeit every fraction of her fortune.

He expected this would cool the ardour of both;
but he was mistaken.

My father knew too well my mother's superior worth not
to be sensible that she was a valuable fortune in herself:

and if she would but consent
to embellish his humble hearth he should be happy
to take her on any terms;
while she,
on her part,
would rather labour
with her own hands than be divided from the man she loved,
whose happiness it would be her joy
to make,
and who was already one
with her in heart and soul.

So her fortune went
to swell the purse of a wiser sister,
who had married a rich nabob;
and she,

to the wonder and compassionate regret of all who knew her,
went
to bury herself in the homely village parsonage among the hills of -.

And yet,
in spite of all this,
and in spite of my mother's high spirit and my father's whims,
I believe you might search all England through,
and fail
to find a happier couple.Of six children,
my sister Mary and myself were the only two that survived the perils of infancy and early childhood.

I,
being the younger by five or six years,
was always regarded as THE child,
and the pet of the family:

father,
mother,
and sister,
all combined
to spoil me - not by foolish indulgence,

to render me fractious and ungovernable,
but by ceaseless kindness,

to make me too helpless and dependent - too unfit
for buffeting
with the cares and turmoils of life.Mary and I were brought up in the strictest seclusion.

My mother,
being at once highly accomplished,
well informed,
and fond of employment,
took the whole charge of our education on herself,

with the exception of Latin - which my father undertook
to teach us - so that we never even went
to school;
and,
as there was no society in the neighbourhood,
our only intercourse
with the world consisted in a stately tea-party,
now and then,

with the principal farmers and tradespeople of the vicinity (just
to avoid being stigmatized as too proud
to consort
with our neighbours),
and an annual visit
to our paternal grandfather's;
where himself,
our kind grandmamma,
a maiden aunt,
and two or three elderly ladies and gentlemen,
were the only persons we ever saw.

Sometimes our mother would amuse us
with stories and anecdotes of her younger days,
which,
while they entertained us amazingly,
frequently awoke - in ME,
at least - a secret wish
to see a little more of the world.I thought she must have been very happy:

but she never seemed
to regret past times.

My father,
however,
whose temper was neither tranquil nor cheerful by nature,
often unduly vexed himself
with thinking of the sacrifices his dear wife had made
for him;
and troubled his head
with revolving endless schemes
for the augmentation of his little fortune,

for her sake and ours.

In vain my mother assured him she was quite satisfied;
and if he would but lay by a little
for the children,
we should all have plenty,
both
for time present and
to come:

but saving was not my father's forte.

He would not run in debt (at least,
my mother took good care he should not),
but while he had money he must spend it:

he liked
to see his house comfortable,
and his wife and daughters well clothed,
and well attended;
and besides,
he was charitably disposed,
and liked
to give
to the poor,
according
to his means:

or,
as some might think,
beyond them.At length,
however,
a kind friend suggested
to him a means of doubling his private property at one stroke;
and further increasing it,
hereafter,

to an untold amount.

This friend was a merchant,
a man of enterprising spirit and undoubted talent,
who was somewhat straitened in his mercantile pursuits
for want of capital;
but generously proposed
to give my father a fair share of his profits,
if he would only entrust him
with what he could spare;
and he thought he might safely promise that whatever sum the latter chose
to put in
to his hands,
it should bring him in cent.

per cent.

The small patrimony was speedily sold,
and the whole of its price was deposited in the hands of the friendly merchant;
who as promptly proceeded
to ship his cargo,
and prepare
for his voyage.My father was delighted,
so were we all,

with our brightening prospects.


for the present,
it is true,
we were reduced
to the narrow income of the curacy;
but my father seemed
to think there was no necessity
for scrupulously restricting our expenditure
to that;
so,

with a standing bill at Mr. Jackson's,
another at Smith's,
and a third at Hobson's,
we got along even more comfortably than before:

though my mother affirmed we had better keep within bounds,

for our prospects of wealth were but precarious,
after all;
and if my father would only trust everything
to her management,
he should never feel himself stinted:

but he,

for once,
was incorrigible.What happy hours Mary and I have passed while sitting at our work by the fire,
or wandering on the heath-clad hills,
or idling under the weeping birch (the only considerable tree in the garden),
talking of future happiness
to ourselves and our parents,
of what we would do,
and see,
and possess;

with no firmer foundation
for our goodly superstructure than the riches that were expected
to flow in upon us from the success of the worthy merchant's speculations.

Our father was nearly as bad as ourselves;
only that he affected not
to be so much in earnest:

expressing his bright hopes and sanguine expectations in jests and playful sallies,
that always struck me as being exceedingly witty and pleasant.

Our mother laughed
with delight
to see him so hopeful and happy:

but still she feared he was setting his heart too much upon the matter;
and once I heard her whisper as she left the room,
'God grant he be not disappointed!

I know not how he would bear it.'
Disappointed he was;
and bitterly,
too.

It came like a thunder- clap on us all,
that the vessel which contained our fortune had been wrecked,
and gone
to the bottom
with all its stores,
together
with several of the crew,
and the unfortunate merchant himself.

I was grieved
for him;
I was grieved
for the overthrow of all our air-built castles:

but,

with the elasticity of youth,
I soon recovered the shook.Though riches had charms,
poverty had no terrors
for an inexperienced girl like me.

Indeed,

to say the truth,
there was something exhilarating in the idea of being driven
to straits,
and thrown upon our own resources.

I only wished papa,
mamma,
and Mary were all of the same mind as myself;
and then,
instead of lamenting past calamities we might all cheerfully set
to work
to remedy them;
and the greater the difficulties,
the harder our present privations,
the greater should be our cheerfulness
to endure the latter,
and our vigour
to contend against the former.Mary did not lament,
but she brooded continually over the misfortune,
and sank in
to a state of dejection from which no effort of mine could rouse her.

I could not possibly bring her
to regard the matter on its bright side as I did:

and indeed I was so fearful of being charged
with childish frivolity,
or stupid insensibility,
that I carefully kept most of my bright ideas and cheering notions
to myself;
well knowing they could not be appreciated.My mother thought only of consoling my father,
and paying our debts and retrenching our expenditure by every available means;
but my father was completely overwhelmed by the calamity:

health,
strength,
and spirits sank beneath the blow,
and he never wholly recovered them.

In vain my mother strove
to cheer him,
by appealing
to his piety,

to his courage,

to his affection
for herself and us.

That very affection was his greatest torment:

it was
for our sakes he had so ardently longed
to increase his fortune - it was our interest that had lent such brightness
to his hopes,
and that imparted such bitterness
to his present distress.

He now tormented himself
with remorse at having neglected my mother's advice;
which would at least have saved him from the additional burden of debt - he vainly reproached himself
for having brought her from the dignity,
the ease,
the luxury of her former station
to toil
with him through the cares and toils of poverty.

It was gall and wormwood
to his soul
to see that splendid,
highly-accomplished woman,
once so courted and admired,
transformed in
to an active managing housewife,

with hands and head continually occupied
with household labours and household economy.

The very willingness
with which she performed these duties,
the cheerfulness
with which she bore her reverses,
and the kindness which withheld her from imputing the smallest blame
to him,
were all perverted by this ingenious self-tormentor in
to further aggravations of his sufferings.

And thus the mind preyed upon the body,
and disordered the system of the nerves,
and they in turn increased the troubles of the mind,
till by action and reaction his health was seriously impaired;
and not one of us could convince him that the aspect of our affairs was not half so gloomy,
so utterly hopeless,
as his morbid imagination represented it
to be.The useful pony phaeton was sold,
together
with the stout,
well-fed pony - the old favourite that we had fully determined should end its days in peace,
and never pass from our hands;
the little coach- house and stable were let;
the servant boy,
and the more efficient (being the more expensive) of the two maid-servants,
were dismissed.

Our clothes were mended,
turned,
and darned
to the utmost verge of decency;
our food,
always plain,
was now simplified
to an unprecedented degree - except my father's favourite dishes;
our coals and candles were painfully economized - the pair of candles reduced
to one,
and that most sparingly used;
the coals carefully husbanded in the half-empty grate:

especially when my father was out on his parish duties,
or confined
to bed through illness - then we sat
with our feet on the fender,
scraping the perishing embers together from time
to time,
and occasionally adding a slight scattering of the dust and fragments of coal,
just
to keep them alive.

As
for our carpets,
they in time were worn threadbare,
and patched and darned even
to a greater extent than our garments.


to save the expense of a gardener,
Mary and I undertook
to keep the garden in order;
and all the cooking and household work that could not easily be managed by one servant- girl,
was done by my mother and sister,

with a little occasional help from me:

only a little,
because,
though a woman in my own estimation,
I was still a child in theirs;
and my mother,
like most active,
managing women,
was not gifted
with very active daughters:


for this reason - that being so clever and diligent herself,
she was never tempted
to trust her affairs
to a deputy,
but,
on the contrary,
was willing
to act and think
for others as well as
for number one;
and whatever was the business in hand,
she was apt
to think that no one could do it so well as herself:

so that whenever I offered
to assist her,
I received such an answer as - 'No,
love,
you cannot indeed - there's nothing here you can do.

Go and help your sister,
or get her
to take a walk
with you - tell her she must not sit so much,
and stay so constantly in the house as she does - she may well look thin and dejected.'
'Mary,
mamma says I'm
to help you;
or get you
to take a walk
with me;
she says you may well look thin and dejected,
if you sit so constantly in the house.'
'Help me you cannot,
Agnes;
and I cannot go out
with YOU - I have far too much
to do.'
'Then let me help you.'
'You cannot,
indeed,
dear child.

Go and practise your music,
or play
with the kitten.'
There was always plenty of sewing on hand;
but I had not been taught
to cut out a single garment,
and except plain hemming and seaming,
there was little I could do,
even in that line;

for they both asserted that it was far easier
to do the work themselves than
to prepare it
for me:

and besides,
they liked better
to see me prosecuting my studies,
or amusing myself - it was time enough
for me
to sit bending over my work,
like a grave matron,
when my favourite little pussy was become a steady old cat.

Under such circumstances,
although I was not many degrees more useful than the kitten,
my idleness was not entirely without excuse.Through all our troubles,
I never but once heard my mother complain of our want of money.

As summer was coming on she observed
to Mary and me,
'What a desirable thing it would be
for your papa
to spend a few weeks at a watering-place.

I am convinced the sea-air and the change of scene would be of incalculable service
to him.

But then,
you see,
there's no money,' she added,

with a sigh.

We both wished exceedingly that the thing might be done,
and lamented greatly that it could not.

'Well,
well!' said she,
'it's no use complaining.

Possibly something might be done
to further the project after all.

Mary,
you are a beautiful drawer.

What do you say
to doing a few more pictures in your best style,
and getting them framed,

with the water-coloured drawings you have already done,
and trying
to dispose of them
to some liberal picture-dealer,
who has the sense
to discern their merits?'
'Mamma,
I should be delighted if you think they COULD be sold;
and
for anything worth while.'
'It's worth while trying,
however,
my dear:

do you procure the drawings,
and I'll endeavour
to find a purchaser.'
'I wish I could do something,' said I.'You,
Agnes!

well,
who knows?

You draw pretty well,
too:

if you choose some simple piece
for your subject,
I daresay you will be able
to produce something we shall all be proud
to exhibit.'
'But I have another scheme in my head,
mamma,
and have had long,
only I did not like
to mention it.'
'Indeed!

pray tell us what it is.'
'I should like
to be a governess.'
My mother uttered an exclamation of surprise,
and laughed.

My sister dropped her work in astonishment,
exclaiming,
'YOU a governess,
Agnes!

What can you be dreaming of?'
'Well!

I don't see anything so VERY extraordinary in it.

I do not pretend
to be able
to instruct great girls;
but surely I could teach little ones:

and I should like it so much:

I am so fond of children.

Do let me,
mamma!'
'But,
my love,
you have not learned
to take care of YOURSELF yet:

and young children require more judgment and experience
to manage than elder ones.'
'But,
mamma,
I am above eighteen,
and quite able
to take care of myself,
and others too.

You do not know half the wisdom and prudence I possess,
because I have never been tried.'
'Only think,' said Mary,
'what would you do in a house full of strangers,
without me or mamma
to speak and act
for you -
with a parcel of children,
besides yourself,

to attend to;
and no one
to look
to
for advice?

You would not even know what clothes
to put on.'
'You think,
because I always do as you bid me,
I have no judgment of my own:

but only try me - that is all I ask - and you shall see what I can do.'
At that moment my father entered and the subject of our discussion was explained
to him.'What,
my little Agnes a governess!' cried he,
and,
in spite of his dejection,
he laughed at the idea.'Yes,
papa,
don't YOU say anything against it:

I should like it so much;
and I am sure I could manage delightfully.'
'But,
my darling,
we could not spare you.' And a tear glistened in his eye as he added - 'No,
no!

afflicted as we are,
surely we are not brought
to that pass yet.'
'Oh,
no!' said my mother.

'There is no necessity whatever
for such a step;
it is merely a whim of her own.

So you must hold your tongue,
you naughty girl;
for,
though you are so ready
to leave us,
you know very well we cannot part
with YOU.'
I was silenced
for that day,
and
for many succeeding ones;
but still I did not wholly relinquish my darling scheme.

Mary got her drawing materials,
and steadily set
to work.

I got mine too;
but while I drew,
I thought of other things.

How delightful it would be
to be a governess!


to go out in
to the world;

to enter upon a new life;

to act
for myself;

to exercise my unused faculties;

to try my unknown powers;

to earn my own maintenance,
and something
to comfort and help my father,
mother,
and sister,
besides exonerating them from the provision of my food and clothing;

to show papa what his little Agnes could do;

to convince mamma and Mary that I was not quite the helpless,
thoughtless being they supposed.

And then,
how charming
to be entrusted
with the care and education of children!

Whatever others said,
I felt I was fully competent
to the task:

the clear remembrance of my own thoughts in early childhood would be a surer guide than the instructions of the most mature adviser.

I had but
to turn from my little pupils
to myself at their age,
and I should know,
at once,
how
to win their confidence and affections:

how
to waken the contrition of the erring;
how
to embolden the timid and console the afflicted;
how
to make Virtue practicable,
Instruction desirable,
and Religion lovely and comprehensible.

- Delightful task!


to teach the young idea how
to shoot!

to train the tender plants,
and watch their buds unfolding day by day!
Influenced by so many inducements,
I determined still
to persevere;
though the fear of displeasing my mother,
or distressing my father's feelings,
prevented me from resuming the subject
for several days.

At length,
again,
I mentioned it
to my mother in private;
and,

with some difficulty,
got her
to promise
to assist me
with her endeavours.

My father's reluctant consent was next obtained,
and then,
though Mary still sighed her disapproval,
my dear,
kind mother began
to look out
for a situation
for me.

She wrote
to my father's relations,
and consulted the newspaper advertisements - her own relations she had long dropped all communication with:

a formal interchange of occasional letters was all she had ever had since her marriage,
and she would not at any time have applied
to them in a case of this nature.

But so long and so entire had been my parents' seclusion from the world,
that many weeks elapsed before a suitable situation could be procured.

At last,

to my great joy,
it was decreed that I should take charge of the young family of a certain Mrs. Bloomfield;
whom my kind,
prim aunt Grey had known in her youth,
and asserted
to be a very nice woman.

Her husband was a retired tradesman,
who had realized a very comfortable fortune;
but could not be prevailed upon
to give a greater salary than twenty-five pounds
to the instructress of his children.

I,
however,
was glad
to accept this,
rather than refuse the situation - which my parents were inclined
to think the better plan.But some weeks more were yet
to be devoted
to preparation.

How long,
how tedious those weeks appeared
to me!

Yet they were happy ones in the main - full of bright hopes and ardent expectations.


with what peculiar pleasure I assisted at the making of my new clothes,
and,
subsequently,
the packing of my trunks!

But there was a feeling of bitterness mingling
with the latter occupation too;
and when it was done - when all was ready
for my departure on the morrow,
and the last night at home approached - a sudden anguish seemed
to swell my heart.

My dear friends looked so sad,
and spoke so very kindly,
that I could scarcely keep my eyes from overflowing:

but I still affected
to be gay.

I had taken my last ramble
with Mary on the moors,
my last walk in the garden,
and round the house;
I had fed,

with her,
our pet pigeons
for the last time - the pretty creatures that we had tamed
to peck their food from our hands:

I had given a farewell stroke
to all their silky backs as they crowded in my lap.

I had tenderly kissed my own peculiar favourites,
the pair of snow-white fantails;
I had played my last tune on the old familiar piano,
and sung my last song
to papa:

not the last,
I hoped,
but the last
for what appeared
to me a very long time.

And,
perhaps,
when I did these things again it would be
with different feelings:

circumstances might be changed,
and this house might never be my settled home again.

My dear little friend,
the kitten,
would certainly be changed:

she was already growing a fine cat;
and when I returned,
even
for a hasty visit at Christmas,
would,
most likely,
have forgotten both her playmate and her merry pranks.

I had romped
with her
for the last time;
and when I stroked her soft bright fur,
while she lay purring herself
to sleep in my lap,
it was
with a feeling of sadness I could not easily disguise.

Then at bed-time,
when I retired
with Mary
to our quiet little chamber,
where already my drawers were cleared out and my share of the bookcase was empty - and where,
hereafter,
she would have
to sleep alone,
in dreary solitude,
as she expressed it - my heart sank more than ever:

I felt as if I had been selfish and wrong
to persist in leaving her;
and when I knelt once more beside our little bed,
I prayed
for a blessing on her and on my parents more fervently than ever I had done before.


to conceal my emotion,
I buried my face in my hands,
and they were presently bathed in tears.

I perceived,
on rising,
that she had been crying too:

but neither of us spoke;
and in silence we betook ourselves
to our repose,
creeping more closely together from the consciousness that we were
to part so soon.But the morning brought a renewal of hope and spirits.

I was
to depart early;
that the conveyance which took me (a gig,
hired from Mr. Smith,
the draper,
grocer,
and tea-dealer of the village) might return the same day.

I rose,
washed,
dressed,
swallowed a hasty breakfast,
received the fond embraces of my father,
mother,
and sister,
kissed the cat -
to the great scandal of Sally,
the maid - shook hands
with her,
mounted the gig,
drew my veil over my face,
and then,
but not till then,
burst in
to a flood of tears.

The gig rolled on;
I looked back;
my dear mother and sister were still standing at the door,
looking after me,
and waving their adieux.

I returned their salute,
and prayed God
to bless them from my heart:

we descended the hill,
and I could see them no more.'It's a coldish mornin'
for you,
Miss Agnes,' observed Smith;
'and a darksome 'un too;
but we's happen get
to yon spot afore there come much rain
to signify.'
'Yes,
I hope so,' replied I,
as calmly as I could.'It's comed a good sup last night too.'
'Yes.'
'But this cold wind will happen keep it off.'
'Perhaps it will.'
Here ended our colloquy.

We crossed the valley,
and began
to ascend the opposite hill.

As we were toiling up,
I looked back again;
there was the village spire,
and the old grey parsonage beyond it,
basking in a slanting beam of sunshine - it was but a sickly ray,
but the village and surrounding hills were all in sombre shade,
and I hailed the wandering beam as a propitious omen
to my home.


with clasped hands I fervently implored a blessing on its inhabitants,
and hastily turned away;

for I saw the sunshine was departing;
and I carefully avoided another glance,
lest I should see it in gloomy shadow,
like the rest of the landscape.


CHAPTER II - FIRST LESSONS IN THE ART OF INSTRUCTION
AS we drove along,
my spirits revived again,
and I turned,

with pleasure,

to the contemplation of the new life upon which I was entering.

But though it was not far past the middle of September,
the heavy clouds and strong north-easterly wind combined
to render the day extremely cold and dreary;
and the journey seemed a very long one,
for,
as Smith observed,
the roads were 'very heavy';
and certainly,
his horse was very heavy too:

it crawled up the hills,
and crept down them,
and only condescended
to shake its sides in a trot where the road was at a dead level or a very gentle slope,
which was rarely the case in those rugged regions;
so that it was nearly one o'clock before we reached the place of our destination.

Yet,
after all,
when we entered the lofty iron gateway,
when we drove softly up the smooth,
well-rolled carriage-road,

with the green lawn on each side,
studded
with young trees,
and approached the new but stately mansion of Wellwood,
rising above its mushroom poplar-groves,
my heart failed me,
and I wished it were a mile or two farther off.


for the first time in my life I must stand alone:

there was no retreating now.

I must enter that house,
and introduce myself among its strange inhabitants.

But how was it
to be done?

True,
I was near nineteen;
but,
thanks
to my retired life and the protecting care of my mother and sister,
I well knew that many a girl of fifteen,
or under,
was gifted
with a more womanly address,
and greater ease and self-possession,
than I was.

Yet,
if Mrs. Bloomfield were a kind,
motherly woman,
I might do very well,
after all;
and the children,
of course,
I should soon be at ease
with them - and Mr. Bloomfield,
I hoped,
I should have but little
to do with.'Be calm,
be calm,
whatever happens,' I said within myself;
and truly I kept this resolution so well,
and was so fully occupied in steadying my nerves and stifling the rebellious flutter of my heart,
that when I was admitted in
to the hall and ushered in
to the presence of Mrs. Bloomfield,
I almost forgot
to answer her polite salutation;
and it afterwards struck me,
that the little I did say was spoken in the tone of one half-dead or half-asleep.

The lady,
too,
was somewhat chilly in her manner,
as I discovered when I had time
to reflect.

She was a tall,
spare,
stately woman,

with thick black hair,
cold grey eyes,
and extremely sallow complexion.
with due politeness,
however,
she showed me my bedroom,
and left me there
to take a little refreshment.

I was somewhat dismayed at my appearance on looking in the glass:

the cold wind had swelled and reddened my hands,
uncurled and entangled my hair,
and dyed my face of a pale purple;
add
to this my collar was horridly crumpled,
my frock splashed
with mud,
my feet clad in stout new boots,
and as the trunks were not brought up,
there was no remedy;
so having smoothed my hair as well as I could,
and repeatedly twitched my obdurate collar,
I proceeded
to clomp down the two flights of stairs,
philosophizing as I went;
and
with some difficulty found my way in
to the room where Mrs. Bloomfield awaited me.She led me in
to the dining-room,
where the family luncheon had been laid out.

Some beefsteaks and half-cold potatoes were set before me;
and while I dined upon these,
she sat opposite,
watching me (as I thought) and endeavouring
to sustain something like a conversation - consisting chiefly of a succession of commonplace remarks,
expressed
with frigid formality:

but this might be more my fault than hers,

for I really could NOT converse.

In fact,
my attention was almost wholly absorbed in my dinner:

not from ravenous appetite,
but from distress at the toughness of the beefsteaks,
and the numbness of my hands,
almost palsied by their five-hours' exposure
to the bitter wind.

I would gladly have eaten the potatoes and let the meat alone,
but having got a large piece of the latter on
to my plate,
I could not be so impolite as
to leave it;
so,
after many awkward and unsuccessful attempts
to cut it
with the knife,
or tear it
with the fork,
or pull it asunder between them,
sensible that the awful lady was a spectator
to the whole transaction,
I at last desperately grasped the knife and fork in my fists,
like a child of two years old,
and fell
to work
with all the little strength I possessed.

But this needed some apology -
with a feeble attempt at a laugh,
I said,
'My hands are so benumbed
with the cold that I can scarcely handle my knife and fork.'
'I daresay you would find it cold,' replied she
with a cool,
immutable gravity that did not serve
to re-assure me.When the ceremony was concluded,
she led me in
to the sitting-room again,
where she rang and sent
for the children.'You will find them not very far advanced in their attainments,' said she,
'
for I have had so little time
to attend
to their education myself,
and we have thought them too young
for a governess till now;
but I think they are clever children,
and very apt
to learn,
especially the little boy;
he is,
I think,
the flower of the flock - a generous,
noble-spirited boy,
one
to be led,
but not driven,
and remarkable
for always speaking the truth.

He seems
to scorn deception' (this was good news).

'His sister Mary Ann will require watching,' continued she,
'but she is a very good girl upon the whole;
though I wish her
to be kept out of the nursery as much as possible,
as she is now almost six years old,
and might acquire bad habits from the nurses.

I have ordered her crib
to be placed in your room,
and if you will be so kind as
to overlook her washing and dressing,
and take charge of her clothes,
she need have nothing further
to do
with the nursery maid.'
I replied I was quite willing
to do so;
and at that moment my young pupils entered the apartment,

with their two younger sisters.

Master Tom Bloomfield was a well-grown boy of seven,

with a somewhat wiry frame,
flaxen hair,
blue eyes,
small turned-up nose,
and fair complexion.

Mary Ann was a tall girl too,
somewhat dark like her mother,
but
with a round full face and a high colour in her cheeks.

The second sister was Fanny,
a very pretty little girl;
Mrs. Bloomfield assured me she was a remarkably gentle child,
and required encouragement:

she had not learned anything yet;
but in a few days,
she would be four years old,
and then she might take her first lesson in the alphabet,
and be promoted
to the schoolroom.

The remaining one was Harriet,
a little broad,
fat,
merry,
playful thing of scarcely two,
that I coveted more than all the rest - but
with her I had nothing
to do.I talked
to my little pupils as well as I could,
and tried
to render myself agreeable;
but
with little success I fear,

for their mother's presence kept me under an unpleasant restraint.

They,
however,
were remarkably free from shyness.

They seemed bold,
lively children,
and I hoped I should soon be on friendly terms
with them - the little boy especially,
of whom I had heard such a favourable character from his mamma.

In Mary Ann there was a certain affected simper,
and a craving
for notice,
that I was sorry
to observe.

But her brother claimed all my attention
to himself;
he stood bolt upright between me and the fire,

with his hands behind his back,
talking away like an orator,
occasionally interrupting his discourse
with a sharp reproof
to his sisters when they made too much noise.'Oh,
Tom,
what a darling you are!' exclaimed his mother.

'Come and kiss dear mamma;
and then won't you show Miss Grey your schoolroom,
and your nice new books?'
'I won't kiss YOU,
mamma;
but I WILL show Miss Grey my schoolroom,
and my new books.'
'And MY schoolroom,
and MY new books,
Tom,' said Mary Ann.

'They're mine too.'
'They're MINE,' replied he decisively.

'Come along,
Miss Grey - I'll escort you.'
When the room and books had been shown,

with some bickerings between the brother and sister that I did my utmost
to appease or mitigate,
Mary Ann brought me her doll,
and began
to be very loquacious on the subject of its fine clothes,
its bed,
its chest of drawers,
and other appurtenances;
but Tom told her
to hold her clamour,
that Miss Grey might see his rocking-horse,
which,

with a most important bustle,
he dragged forth from its corner in
to the middle of the room,
loudly calling on me
to attend
to it.

Then,
ordering his sister
to hold the reins,
he mounted,
and made me stand
for ten minutes,
watching how manfully he used his whip and spurs.

Meantime,
however,
I admired Mary Ann's pretty doll,
and all its possessions;
and then told Master Tom he was a capital rider,
but I hoped he would not use his whip and spurs so much when he rode a real pony.'Oh,
yes,
I will!' said he,
laying on
with redoubled ardour.

'I'll cut in
to him like smoke!

Eeh!

my word!

but he shall sweat
for it.'
This was very shocking;
but I hoped in time
to be able
to work a reformation.'Now you must put on your bonnet and shawl,' said the little hero,
'and I'll show you my garden.'
'And MINE,' said Mary Ann.Tom lifted his fist
with a menacing gesture;
she uttered a loud,
shrill scream,
ran
to the other side of me,
and made a face at him.'Surely,
Tom,
you would not strike your sister!

I hope I shall NEVER see you do that.'
'You will sometimes:

I'm obliged
to do it now and then
to keep her in order.'
'But it is not your business
to keep her in order,
you know - that is
for - '
'Well,
now go and put on your bonnet.'
'I don't know - it is so very cloudy and cold,
it seems likely
to rain;
- and you know I have had a long drive.'
'No matter - you MUST come;
I shall allow of no excuses,' replied the consequential little gentleman.

And,
as it was the first day of our acquaintance,
I thought I might as well indulge him.

It was too cold
for Mary Ann
to venture,
so she stayed
with her mamma,

to the great relief of her brother,
who liked
to have me all
to himself.The garden was a large one,
and tastefully laid out;
besides several splendid dahlias,
there were some other fine flowers still in bloom:

but my companion would not give me time
to examine them:

I must go
with him,
across the wet grass,

to a remote sequestered corner,
the most important place in the grounds,
because it contained HIS garden.

There were two round beds,
stocked
with a variety of plants.

In one there was a pretty little rose-tree.

I paused
to admire its lovely blossoMs.'Oh,
never mind that!' said he,
contemptuously.

'That's only MARY ANN'S garden;
look,
THIS is mine.'
After I had observed every flower,
and listened
to a disquisition on every plant,
I was permitted
to depart;
but first,

with great pomp,
he plucked a polyanthus and presented it
to me,
as one conferring a prodigious favour.

I observed,
on the grass about his garden,
certain apparatus of sticks and corn,
and asked what they were.'Traps
for birds.'
'Why do you catch them?'
'Papa says they do harm.'
'And what do you do
with them when you catch them?'
'Different things.

Sometimes I give them
to the cat;
sometimes I cut them in pieces
with my penknife;
but the next,
I mean
to roast alive.'
'And why do you mean
to do such a horrible thing?'
'
for two reasons:

first,

to see how long it will live - and then,

to see what it will taste like.'
'But don't you know it is extremely wicked
to do such things?

Remember,
the birds can feel as well as you;
and think,
how would you like it yourself?'
'Oh,
that's nothing!

I'm not a bird,
and I can't feel what I do
to them.'
'But you will have
to feel it some time,
Tom:

you have heard where wicked people go
to when they die;
and if you don't leave off torturing innocent birds,
remember,
you will have
to go there,
and suffer just what you have made them suffer.'
'Oh,
pooh!

I shan't.

Papa knows how I treat them,
and he never blames me
for it:

he says it is just what HE used
to do when HE was a boy.

Last summer,
he gave me a nest full of young sparrows,
and he saw me pulling off their legs and wings,
and heads,
and never said anything;
except that they were nasty things,
and I must not let them soil my trousers:

end Uncle Robson was there too,
and he laughed,
and said I was a fine boy.'
'But what would your mamma say?'
'Oh,
she doesn't care!

she says it's a pity
to kill the pretty singing birds,
but the naughty sparrows,
and mice,
and rats,
I may do what I like with.

So now,
Miss Grey,
you see it is NOT wicked.'
'I still think it is,
Tom;
and perhaps your papa and mamma would think so too,
if they thought much about it.

However,' I internally added,
'they may say what they please,
but I am determined you shall do nothing of the kind,
as long as I have power
to prevent it.'
He next took me across the lawn
to see his mole-traps,
and then in
to the stack-yard
to see his weasel-traps:

one of which,

to his great joy,
contained a dead weasel;
and then in
to the stable
to see,
not the fine carriage-horses,
but a little rough colt,
which he informed me had been bred on purpose
for him,
and he was
to ride it as soon as it was properly trained.

I tried
to amuse the little fellow,
and listened
to all his chatter as complacently as I could;

for I thought if he had any affections at all,
I would endeavour
to win them;
and then,
in time,
I might be able
to show him the error of his ways:

but I looked in vain
for that generous,
noble spirit his mother talked of;
though I could see he was not without a certain degree of quickness and penetration,
when he chose
to exert it.When we re-entered the house it was nearly tea-time.

Master Tom told me that,
as papa was from home,
he and I and Mary Ann were
to have tea
with mamma,

for a treat;
for,
on such occasions,
she always dined at luncheon-time
with them,
instead of at six o'clock.

Soon after tea,
Mary Ann went
to bed,
but Tom favoured us
with his company and conversation till eight.

After he was gone,
Mrs. Bloomfield further enlightened me on the subject of her children's dispositions and acquirements,
and on what they were
to learn,
and how they were
to be managed,
and cautioned me
to mention their defects
to no one but herself.

My mother had warned me before
to mention them as little as possible
to HER,

for people did not like
to be told of their children's faults,
and so I concluded I was
to keep silence on them altogether.

About half-past nine,
Mrs. Bloomfield invited me
to partake of a frugal supper of cold meat and bread.

I was glad when that was over,
and she took her bedroom candlestick and retired
to rest;

for though I wished
to be pleased
with her,
her company was extremely irksome
to me;
and I could not help feeling that she was cold,
grave,
and forbidding - the very opposite of the kind,
warm-hearted matron my hopes had depicted her
to be.


CHAPTER III - A FEW MORE LESSONS
I ROSE next morning
with a feeling of hopeful exhilaration,
in spite of the disappointments already experienced;
but I found the dressing of Mary Ann was no light matter,
as her abundant hair was
to be smeared
with pomade,
plaited in three long tails,
and tied
with bows of ribbon:

a task my unaccustomed fingers found great difficulty in performing.

She told me her nurse could do it in half the time,
and,
by keeping up a constant fidget of impatience,
contrived
to render me still longer.

When all was done,
we went in
to the schoolroom,
where I met my other pupil,
and chatted
with the two till it was time
to go down
to breakfast.

That meal being concluded,
and a few civil words having been exchanged
with Mrs. Bloomfield,
we repaired
to the schoolroom again,
and commenced the business of the day.

I found my pupils very backward,
indeed;
but Tom,
though averse
to every species of mental exertion,
was not without abilities.

Mary Ann could scarcely read a word,
and was so careless and inattentive that I could hardly get on
with her at all.

However,
by dint of great labour and patience,
I managed
to get something done in the course of the morning,
and then accompanied my young charge out in
to the garden and adjacent grounds,

for a little recreation before dinner.

There we got along tolerably together,
except that I found they had no notion of going
with me:

I must go
with them,
wherever they chose
to lead me.

I must run,
walk,
or stand,
exactly as it suited their fancy.

This,
I thought,
was reversing the order of things;
and I found it doubly disagreeable,
as on this as well as subsequent occasions,
they seemed
to prefer the dirtiest places and the most dismal occupations.

But there was no remedy;
either I must follow them,
or keep entirely apart from them,
and thus appear neglectful of my charge.

To-day,
they manifested a particular attachment
to a well at the bottom of the lawn,
where they persisted in dabbling
with sticks and pebbles
for above half an hour.

I was in constant fear that their mother would see them from the window,
and blame me
for allowing them thus
to draggle their clothes and wet their feet and hands,
instead of taking exercise;
but no arguments,
commands,
or entreaties could draw them away.

If SHE did not see them,
some one else did - a gentleman on horseback had entered the gate and was proceeding up the road;
at the distance of a few paces from us he paused,
and calling
to the children in a waspish penetrating tone,
bade them 'keep out of that water.' 'Miss Grey,' said he,
'(I suppose it IS Miss Grey),
I am surprised that you should allow them
to dirty their clothes in that manner!

Don't you see how Miss Bloomfield has soiled her frock?

and that Master Bloomfield's socks are quite wet?

and both of them without gloves?

Dear,
dear!

Let me REQUEST that in future you will keep them DECENT at least!' so saying,
he turned away,
and continued his ride up
to the house.

This was Mr. Bloomfield.

I was surprised that he should nominate his children Master and Miss Bloomfield;
and still more so,
that he should speak so uncivilly
to me,
their governess,
and a perfect stranger
to himself.

Presently the bell rang
to summon us in.

I dined
with the children at one,
while he and his lady took their luncheon at the same table.

His conduct there did not greatly raise him in my estimation.

He was a man of ordinary stature - rather below than above - and rather thin than stout,
apparently between thirty and forty years of age:

he had a large mouth,
pale,
dingy complexion,
milky blue eyes,
and hair the colour of a hempen cord.

There was a roast leg of mutton before him:

he helped Mrs. Bloomfield,
the children,
and me,
desiring me
to cut up the children's meat;
then,
after twisting about the mutton in various directions,
and eyeing it from different points,
he pronounced it not fit
to be eaten,
and called
for the cold beef.'What is the matter
with the mutton,
my dear?' asked his mate.'It is quite overdone.

Don't you taste,
Mrs. Bloomfield,
that all the goodness is roasted out of it?

And can't you see that all that nice,
red gravy is completely dried away?'
'Well,
I think the BEEF will suit you.'
The beef was set before him,
and he began
to carve,
but
with the most rueful expressions of discontent.'What is the matter
with the BEEF,
Mr. Bloomfield?

I'm sure I thought it was very nice.'
'And so it WAS very nice.

A nicer joint could not be;
but it is QUITE spoiled,' replied he,
dolefully.'How so?'
'How so!

Why,
don't you see how it is cut?

Dear - dear!

it is quite shocking!'
'They must have cut it wrong in the kitchen,
then,

for I'm sure I carved it quite properly here,
yesterday.'
'No DOUBT they cut it wrong in the kitchen - the savages!

Dear - dear!

Did ever any one see such a fine piece of beef so completely ruined?

But remember that,
in future,
when a decent dish leaves this table,
they shall not TOUCH it in the kitchen.

Remember THAT,
Mrs. Bloomfield!'
Notwithstanding the ruinous state of the beef,
the gentleman managed
to out himself some delicate slices,
part of which he ate in silence.

When he next spoke,
it was,
in a less querulous tone,

to ask what there was
for dinner.'Turkey and grouse,' was the concise reply.'And what besides?'
'Fish.'
'What kind of fish?'
'I don't know.'
'YOU DON'T KNOW?' cried he,
looking solemnly up from his plate,
and suspending his knife and fork in astonishment.'No.

I told the cook
to get some fish - I did not particularize what.'
'Well,
that beats everything!

A lady professes
to keep house,
and doesn't even know what fish is
for dinner!

professes
to order fish,
and doesn't specify what!'
'Perhaps,
Mr. Bloomfield,
you will order dinner yourself in future.'
Nothing more was said;
and I was very glad
to get out of the room
with my pupils;

for I never felt so ashamed and uncomfortable in my life
for anything that was not my own fault.In the afternoon we applied
to lessons again:

then went out again;
then had tea in the schoolroom;
then I dressed Mary Ann
for dessert;
and when she and her brother had gone down
to the dining- room,
I took the opportunity of beginning a letter
to my dear friends at home:

but the children came up before I had half completed it.

At seven I had
to put Mary Ann
to bed;
then I played
with Tom till eight,
when he,
too,
went;
and I finished my letter and unpacked my clothes,
which I had hither
to found no opportunity
for doing,
and,
finally,
went
to bed myself.But this is a very favourable specimen of a day's proceedings.My task of instruction and surveillance,
instead of becoming easier as my charges and I got better accustomed
to each other,
became more arduous as their characters unfolded.

The name of governess,
I soon found,
was a mere mockery as applied
to me:

my pupils had no more notion of obedience than a wild,
unbroken colt.

The habitual fear of their father's peevish temper,
and the dread of the punishments he was wont
to inflict when irritated,
kept them generally within bounds in his immediate presence.

The girls,
too,
had some fear of their mother's anger;
and the boy might occasionally be bribed
to do as she bid him by the hope of reward;
but I had no rewards
to offer;
and as
for punishments,
I was given
to understand,
the parents reserved that privilege
to themselves;
and yet they expected me
to keep my pupils in order.

Other children might be guided by the fear of anger and the desire of approbation;
but neither the one nor the other had any effect upon these.Master Tom,
not content
with refusing
to be ruled,
must needs set up as a ruler,
and manifested a determination
to keep,
not only his sisters,
but his governess in order,
by violent manual and pedal applications;
and,
as he was a tall,
strong boy of his years,
this occasioned no trifling inconvenience.

A few sound boxes on the ear,
on such occasions,
might have settled the matter easily enough:

but as,
in that case,
he might make up some story
to his mother which she would be sure
to believe,
as she had such unshaken faith in his veracity - though I had already discovered it
to be by no means unimpeachable - I determined
to refrain from striking him,
even in self-defence;
and,
in his most violent moods,
my only resource was
to throw him on his back and hold his hands and feet till the frenzy was somewhat abated.


to the difficulty of preventing him from doing what he ought not,
was added that of forcing him
to do what he ought.

Often he would positively refuse
to learn,
or
to repeat his lessons,
or even
to look at his book.

Here,
again,
a good birch rod might have been serviceable;
but,
as my powers were so limited,
I must make the best use of what I had.As there were no settled hours
for study and play,
I resolved
to give my pupils a certain task,
which,

with moderate attention,
they could perform in a short time;
and till this was done,
however weary I was,
or however perverse they might be,
nothing short of parental interference should induce me
to suffer them
to leave the schoolroom,
even if I should sit
with my chair against the door
to keep them in.

Patience,
Firmness,
and Perseverance were my only weapons;
and these I resolved
to use
to the utmost.

I determined always strictly
to fulfil the threats and promises I made;
and,

to that end,
I must be cautious
to threaten and promise nothing that I could not perform.

Then,
I would carefully refrain from all useless irritability and indulgence of my own ill-temper:

when they behaved tolerably,
I would be as kind and obliging as it was in my power
to be,
in order
to make the widest possible distinction between good and bad conduct;
I would reason
with them,
too,
in the simplest and most effective manner.

When I reproved them,
or refused
to gratify their wishes,
after a glaring fault,
it should be more in sorrow than in anger:

their little hymns and prayers I would make plain and clear
to their understanding;
when they said their prayers at night and asked pardon
for their offences,
I would remind them of the sins of the past day,
solemnly,
but in perfect kindness,

to avoid raising a spirit of opposition;
penitential hymns should be said by the naughty,
cheerful ones by the comparatively good;
and every kind of instruction I would convey
to them,
as much as possible,
by entertaining discourse - apparently
with no other object than their present amusement in view.By these means I hoped in time both
to benefit the children and
to gain the approbation of their parents;
and also
to convince my friends at home that I was not so wanting in skill and prudence as they supposed.

I knew the difficulties I had
to contend
with were great;
but I knew (at least I believed) unremitting patience and perseverance could overcome them;
and night and morning I implored Divine assistance
to this end.

But either the children were so incorrigible,
the parents so unreasonable,
or myself so mistaken in my views,
or so unable
to carry them out,
that my best intentions and most strenuous efforts seemed productive of no better result than sport
to the children,
dissatisfaction
to their parents,
and torment
to myself.The task of instruction was as arduous
for the body as the mind.

I had
to run after my pupils
to catch them,

to carry or drag them
to the table,
and often forcibly
to hold them there till the lesson was done.

Tom I frequently put in
to a corner,
seating myself before him in a chair,

with a book which contained the little task that must be said or read,
before he was released,
in my hand.

He was not strong enough
to push both me and the chair away,
so he would stand twisting his body and face in
to the most grotesque and singular contortions - laughable,
no doubt,

to an unconcerned spectator,
but not
to me - and uttering loud yells and doleful outcries,
intended
to represent weeping but wholly without the accompaniment of tears.

I knew this was done solely
for the purpose of annoying me;
and,
therefore,
however I might inwardly tremble
with impatience and irritation,
I manfully strove
to suppress all visible signs of molestation,
and affected
to sit
with calm indifference,
waiting till it should please him
to cease this pastime,
and prepare
for a run in the garden,
by casting his eye on the book and reading or repeating the few words he was required
to say.

Sometimes he was determined
to do his writing badly;
and I had
to hold his hand
to prevent him from purposely blotting or disfiguring the paper.

Frequently I threatened that,
if he did not do better,
he should have another line:

then he would stubbornly refuse
to write this line;
and I,

to save my word,
had finally
to resort
to the expedient of holding his fingers upon the pen,
and forcibly drawing his hand up and down,
till,
in spite of his resistance,
the line was in some sort completed.Yet Tom was by no means the most unmanageable of my pupils:

sometimes,

to my great joy,
he would have the sense
to see that his wisest policy was
to finish his tasks,
and go out and amuse himself till I and his sisters came
to join him;
which frequently was not at all,

for Mary Ann seldom followed his example in this particular:

she apparently preferred rolling on the floor
to any other amusement:

down she would drop like a leaden weight;
and when I,

with great difficulty,
had succeeded in rooting her thence,
I had still
to hold her up
with one arm,
while
with the other I held the book from which she was
to read or spell her lesson.

As the dead weight of the big girl of six became too heavy
for one arm
to bear,
I transferred it
to the other;
or,
if both were weary of the burden,
I carried her in
to a corner,
and told her she might come out when she should find the use of her feet,
and stand up:

but she generally preferred lying there like a log till dinner or teatime,
when,
as I could not deprive her of her meals,
she must be liberated,
and would come crawling out
with a grin of triumph on her round,
red face.

Often she would stubbornly refuse
to pronounce some particular word in her lesson;
and now I regret the lost labour I have had in striving
to conquer her obstinacy.

If I had passed it over as a matter of no consequence,
it would have been better
for both parties,
than vainly striving
to overcome it as I did;
but I thought it my absolute duty
to crush this vicious tendency in the bud:

and so it was,
if I could have done it;
and had my powers been less limited,
I might have enforced obedience;
but,
as it was,
it was a trial of strength between her and me,
in which she generally came off victorious;
and every victory served
to encourage and strengthen her
for a future contest.

In vain I argued,
coaxed,
entreated,
threatened,
scolded;
in vain I kept her in from play,
or,
if obliged
to take her out,
refused
to play
with her,
or
to speak kindly or have anything
to do
with her;
in vain I tried
to set before her the advantages of doing as she was bid,
and being loved,
and kindly treated in consequence,
and the disadvantages of persisting in her absurd perversity.

Sometimes,
when she would ask me
to do something
for her,
I would answer,
- 'Yes,
I will,
Mary Ann,
if you will only say that word.

Come!

you'd better say it at once,
and have no more trouble about it.'
'No.'
'Then,
of course,
I can do nothing
for you.'

with me,
at her age,
or under,
neglect and disgrace were the most dreadful of punishments;
but on her they made no impression.

Sometimes,
exasperated
to the utmost pitch,
I would shake her violently by the shoulder,
or pull her long hair,
or put her in the corner;

for which she punished me
with loud,
shrill,
piercing screams,
that went through my head like a knife.

She knew I hated this,
and when she had shrieked her utmost,
would look in
to my face
with an air of vindictive satisfaction,
exclaiming,
- 'NOW,
then!

THAT'S
for you!' and then shriek again and again,
till I was forced
to stop my ears.

Often these dreadful cries would bring Mrs. Bloomfield up
to inquire what was the matter?
'Mary Ann is a naughty girl,
ma'am.'
'But what are these shocking screams?'
'She is screaming in a passion.'
'I never heard such a dreadful noise!

You might be killing her.

Why is she not out
with her brother?'
'I cannot get her
to finish her lessons.'
'But Mary Ann must be a GOOD girl,
and finish her lessons.' This was blandly spoken
to the child.

'And I hope I shall NEVER hear such terrible cries again!'
And fixing her cold,
stony eyes upon me
with a look that could not be mistaken,
she would shut the door,
and walk away.

Sometimes I would try
to take the little obstinate creature by surprise,
and casually ask her the word while she was thinking of something else;
frequently she would begin
to say it,
and then suddenly cheek herself,

with a provoking look that seemed
to say,
'Ah!

I'm too sharp
for you;
you shan't trick it out of me,
either.'
On another occasion,
I pretended
to forget the whole affair;
and talked and played
with her as usual,
till night,
when I put her
to bed;
then bending over her,
while she lay all smiles and good humour,
just before departing,
I said,
as cheerfully and kindly as before - 'Now,
Mary Ann,
just tell me that word before I kiss you good-night.

You are a good girl now,
and,
of course,
you will say it.'
'No,
I won't.'
'Then I can't kiss you.'
'Well,
I don't care.'
In vain I expressed my sorrow;
in vain I lingered
for some symptom of contrition;
she really 'didn't care,' and I left her alone,
and in darkness,
wondering most of all at this last proof of insensate stubbornness.

In MY childhood I could not imagine a more afflictive punishment than
for my mother
to refuse
to kiss me at night:

the very idea was terrible.

More than the idea I never felt,
for,
happily,
I never committed a fault that was deemed worthy of such penalty;
but once I remember,

for some transgression of my sister's,
our mother thought proper
to inflict it upon her:

what SHE felt,
I cannot tell;
but my sympathetic tears and suffering
for her sake I shall not soon forget.Another troublesome trait in Mary Ann was her incorrigible propensity
to keep running in
to the nursery,

to play
with her little sisters and the nurse.

This was natural enough,
but,
as it was against her mother's express desire,
I,
of course,
forbade her
to do so,
and did my utmost
to keep her
with me;
but that only increased her relish
for the nursery,
and the more I strove
to keep her out of it,
the oftener she went,
and the longer she stayed,

to the great dissatisfaction of Mrs. Bloomfield,
who,
I well knew,
would impute all the blame of the matter
to me.

Another of my trials was the dressing in the morning:

at one time she would not be washed;
at another she would not be dressed,
unless she might wear some particular frock,
that I knew her mother would not like her
to have;
at another she would scream and run away if I attempted
to touch her hair.

So that,
frequently,
when,
after much trouble and toil,
I had,
at length,
succeeded in bringing her down,
the breakfast was nearly half over;
and black looks from 'mamma,' and testy observations from 'papa,' spoken at me,
if not
to me,
were sure
to be my meed:


for few things irritated the latter so much as want of punctuality at meal times.

Then,
among the minor annoyances,
was my inability
to satisfy Mrs. Bloomfield
with her daughter's dress;
and the child's hair 'was never fit
to be seen.' Sometimes,
as a powerful reproach
to me,
she would perform the office of tire woman herself,
and then complain bitterly of the trouble it gave her.When little Fanny came in
to the schoolroom,
I hoped she would be mild and inoffensive,
at least;
but a few days,
if not a few hours,
sufficed
to destroy the illusion:

I found her a mischievous,
intractable little creature,
given up
to falsehood and deception,
young as she was,
and alarmingly fond of exercising her two favourite weapons of offence and defence:

that of spitting in the faces of those who incurred her displeasure,
and bellowing like a bull when her unreasonable desires were not gratified.

As she,
generally,
was pretty quiet in her parents' presence,
and they were impressed
with the notion of her being a remarkably gentle child,
her falsehoods were readily believed,
and her loud uproars led them
to suspect harsh and injudicious treatment on my part;
and when,
at length,
her bad disposition became manifest even
to their prejudiced eyes,
I felt that the whole was attributed
to me.'What a naughty girl Fanny is getting!' Mrs. Bloomfield would say
to her spouse.

'Don't you observe,
my dear,
how she is altered since she entered the schoolroom?

She will soon be as bad as the other two;
and,
I am sorry
to say,
they have quite deteriorated of late.'
'You may say that,' was the answer.

'I've been thinking that same myself.

I thought when we got them a governess they'd improve;
but,
instead of that,
they get worse and worse:

I don't know how it is
with their learning,
but their habits,
I know,
make no sort of improvement;
they get rougher,
and dirtier,
and more unseemly every day.'
I knew this was all pointed at me;
and these,
and all similar innuendoes,
affected me far more deeply than any open accusations would have done;

for against the latter I should have been roused
to speak in my own defence:

now I judged it my wisest plan
to subdue every resentful impulse,
suppress every sensitive shrinking,
and go on perseveringly,
doing my best;
for,
irksome as my situation was,
I earnestly wished
to retain it.

I thought,
if I could struggle on
with unremitting firmness and integrity,
the children would in time become more humanized:

every month would contribute
to make them some little wiser,
and,
consequently,
more manageable;

for a child of nine or ten as frantic and ungovernable as these at six and seven would be a maniac.I flattered myself I was benefiting my parents and sister by my continuance here;

for small as the salary was,
I still was earning something,
and
with strict economy I could easily manage
to have something
to spare
for them,
if they would favour me by taking it.

Then it was by my own will that I had got the place:

I had brought all this tribulation on myself,
and I was determined
to bear it;
nay,
more than that,
I did not even regret the step I had taken.

I longed
to show my friends that,
even now,
I was competent
to undertake the charge,
and able
to acquit myself honourably
to the end;
and if ever I felt it degrading
to submit so quietly,
or intolerable
to toil so constantly,
I would turn towards my home,
and say within myself -
They may crush,
but they shall not subdue me!

'Tis of thee that I think,
not of them.

About Christmas I was allowed
to visit home;
but my holiday was only of a fortnight's duration:

'For,' said Mrs. Bloomfield,
'I thought,
as you had seen your friends so lately,
you would not care
for a longer stay.' I left her
to think so still:

but she little knew how long,
how wearisome those fourteen weeks of absence had been
to me;
how intensely I had longed
for my holidays,
how greatly I was disappointed at their curtailment.

Yet she was not
to blame in this.

I had never told her my feelings,
and she could not be expected
to divine them;
I had not been
with her a full term,
and she was justified in not allowing me a full vacation.


CHAPTER IV - THE GRANDMAMMA
I SPARE my readers the account of my delight on coming home,
my happiness while there - enjoying a brief space of rest and liberty in that dear,
familiar place,
among the loving and the loved - and my sorrow on being obliged
to bid them,
once more,
a long adieu.I returned,
however,

with unabated vigour
to my work - a more arduous task than anyone can imagine,
who has not felt something like the misery of being charged
with the care and direction of a set of mischievous,
turbulent rebels,
whom his utmost exertions cannot bind
to their duty;
while,
at the same time,
he is responsible
for their conduct
to a higher power,
who exacts from him what cannot be achieved without the aid of the superior's more potent authority;
which,
either from indolence,
or the fear of becoming unpopular
with the said rebellious gang,
the latter refuses
to give.

I can conceive few situations more harassing than that wherein,
however you may long
for success,
however you may labour
to fulfil your duty,
your efforts are baffled and set at nought by those beneath you,
and unjustly censured and misjudged by those above.I have not enumerated half the vexatious propensities of my pupils,
or half the troubles resulting from my heavy responsibilities,

for fear of trespassing too much upon the reader's patience;
as,
perhaps,
I have already done;
but my design in writing the few last pages was not
to amuse,
but
to benefit those whom it might concern;
he that has no interest in such matters will doubtless have skipped them over
with a cursory glance,
and,
perhaps,
a malediction against the prolixity of the writer;
but if a parent has,
therefrom,
gathered any useful hint,
or an unfortunate governess received thereby the slightest benefit,
I am well rewarded
for my pains.
to avoid trouble and confusion,
I have taken my pupils one by one,
and discussed their various qualities;
but this can give no adequate idea of being worried by the whole three together;
when,
as was often the case,
all were determined
to 'be naughty,
and
to tease Miss Grey,
and put her in a passion.'
Sometimes,
on such occasions,
the thought has suddenly occurred
to me - 'If they could see me now!' meaning,
of course,
my friends at home;
and the idea of how they would pity me has made me pity myself - so greatly that I have had the utmost difficulty
to restrain my tears:

but I have restrained them,
till my little tormentors were gone
to dessert,
or cleared off
to bed (my only prospects of deliverance),
and then,
in all the bliss of solitude,
I have given myself up
to the luxury of an unrestricted burst of weeping.

But this was a weakness I did not often indulge:

my employments were too numerous,
my leisure moments too precious,

to admit of much time being given
to fruitless lamentations.I particularly remember one wild,
snowy afternoon,
soon after my return in January:

the children had all come up from dinner,
loudly declaring that they meant '
to be naughty;' and they had well kept their resolution,
though I had talked myself hoarse,
and wearied every muscle in my throat,
in the vain attempt
to reason them out of it.

I had got Tom pinned up in a corner,
whence,
I told him,
he should not escape till he had done his appointed task.

Meantime,
Fanny had possessed herself of my work-bag,
and was rifling its contents - and spitting in
to it besides.

I told her
to let it alone,
but
to no purpose,
of course.

'Burn it,
Fanny!' cried Tom:

and THIS command she hastened
to obey.

I sprang
to snatch it from the fire,
and Tom darted
to the door.

'Mary Ann,
throw her desk out of the window!' cried he:

and my precious desk,
containing my letters and papers,
my small amount of cash,
and all my valuables,
was about
to be precipitated from the three-storey window.

I flew
to rescue it.

Meanwhile Tom had left the room,
and was rushing down the stairs,
followed by Fanny.

Having secured my desk,
I ran
to catch them,
and Mary Ann came scampering after.

All three escaped me,
and ran out of the house in
to the garden,
where they plunged about in the snow,
shouting and screaming in exultant glee.What must I do?

If I followed them,
I should probably be unable
to capture one,
and only drive them farther away;
if I did not,
how was I
to get them in?

And what would their parents think of me,
if they saw or heard the children rioting,
hatless,
bonnetless,
gloveless,
and bootless,
in the deep soft snow?

While I stood in this perplexity,
just without the door,
trying,
by grim looks and angry words,

to awe them in
to subjection,
I heard a voice behind me,
in harshly piercing tones,
exclaiming,
-
'Miss Grey!

Is it possible?

What,
in the devil's name,
can you be thinking about?'
'I can't get them in,
sir,' said I,
turning round,
and beholding Mr. Bloomfield,

with his hair on end,
and his pale blue eyes bolting from their sockets.'But I INSIST upon their being got in!' cried he,
approaching nearer,
and looking perfectly ferocious.'Then,
sir,
you must call them yourself,
if you please,

for they won't listen
to me,' I replied,
stepping back.'Come in
with you,
you filthy brats;
or I'll horsewhip you every one!' roared he;
and the children instantly obeyed.

'There,
you see!

- they come at the first word!'
'Yes,
when YOU speak.'
'And it's very strange,
that when you've the care of 'em you've no better control over 'em than that!

- Now,
there they are - gone up- stairs
with their nasty snowy feet!

Do go after 'em and see them made decent,

for heaven's sake!'
That gentleman's mother was then staying in the house;
and,
as I ascended the stairs and passed the drawing-room door,
I had the satisfaction of hearing the old lady declaiming aloud
to her daughter-in-law
to this effect (
for I could only distinguish the most emphatic words) -
'Gracious heavens!

- never in all my life - !

- get their death as sure as - !

Do you think,
my dear,
she's a PROPER PERSON?

Take my word
for it - '
I heard no more;
but that sufficed.The senior Mrs. Bloomfield had been very attentive and civil
to me;
and till now I had thought her a nice,
kind-hearted,
chatty old body.

She would often come
to me and talk in a confidential strain;
nodding and shaking her head,
and gesticulating
with hands and eyes,
as a certain class of old ladies are won't
to do;
though I never knew one that carried the peculiarity
to so great an extent.

She would even sympathise
with me
for the trouble I had
with the children,
and express at times,
by half sentences,
interspersed
with nods and knowing winks,
her sense of the injudicious conduct of their mamma in so restricting my power,
and neglecting
to support me
with her authority.

Such a mode of testifying disapprobation was not much
to my taste;
and I generally refused
to take it in,
or understand anything more than was openly spoken;
at least,
I never went farther than an implied acknowledgment that,
if matters were otherwise ordered my task would be a less difficult one,
and I should be better able
to guide and instruct my charge;
but now I must be doubly cautious.

Hitherto,
though I saw the old lady had her defects (of which one was a proneness
to proclaim her perfections),
I had always been wishful
to excuse them,
and
to give her credit
for all the virtues she professed,
and even imagine others yet untold.

Kindness,
which had been the food of my life through so many years,
had lately been so entirely denied me,
that I welcomed
with grateful joy the slightest semblance of it.

No wonder,
then,
that my heart warmed
to the old lady,
and always gladdened at her approach and regretted her departure.But now,
the few words luckily or unluckily heard in passing had wholly revolutionized my ideas respecting her:

now I looked upon her as hypocritical and insincere,
a flatterer,
and a spy upon my words and deeds.

Doubtless it would have been my interest still
to meet her
with the same cheerful smile and tone of respectful cordiality as before;
but I could not,
if I would:

my manner altered
with my feelings,
and became so cold and shy that she could not fail
to notice it.

She soon did notice it,
and HER manner altered too:

the familiar nod was changed
to a stiff bow,
the gracious smile gave place
to a glare of Gorgon ferocity;
her vivacious loquacity was entirely transferred from me
to 'the darling boy and girls,' whom she flattered and indulged more absurdly than ever their mother had done.I confess I was somewhat troubled at this change:

I feared the consequences of her displeasure,
and even made some efforts
to recover the ground I had lost - and
with better apparent success than I could have anticipated.

At one time,
I,
merely in common civility,
asked after her cough;
immediately her long visage relaxed in
to a smile,
and she favoured me
with a particular history of that and her other infirmities,
followed by an account of her pious resignation,
delivered in the usual emphatic,
declamatory style,
which no writing can portray.'But there's one remedy
for all,
my dear,
and that's resignation' (a toss of the head),
'resignation
to the will of heaven!' (an uplifting of the hands and eyes).

'It has always supported me through all my trials,
and always will do' (a succession of nods).

'But then,
it isn't everybody that can say that' (a shake of the head);
'but I'm one of the pious ones,
Miss Grey!' (a very significant nod and toss).

'And,
thank heaven,
I always was' (another nod),
'and I glory in it!' (an emphatic clasping of the hands and shaking of the head).

And
with several texts of Scripture,
misquoted or misapplied,
and religious exclamations so redolent of the ludicrous in the style of delivery and manner of bringing in,
if not in the expressions themselves,
that I decline repeating them,
she withdrew;
tossing her large head in high good- humour -
with herself at least - and left me hoping that,
after all,
she was rather weak than wicked.At her next visit
to Wellwood House,
I went so far as
to say I was glad
to see her looking so well.

The effect of this was magical:

the words,
intended as a mark of civility,
were received as a flattering compliment;
her countenance brightened up,
and from that moment she became as gracious and benign as heart could wish - in outward semblance at least.

From what I now saw of her,
and what I heard from the children,
I know that,
in order
to gain her cordial friendship,
I had but
to utter a word of flattery at each convenient opportunity:

but this was against my principles;
and
for lack of this,
the capricious old dame soon deprived me of her favour again,
and I believe did me much secret injury.She could not greatly influence her daughter-in-law against me,
because,
between that lady and herself there was a mutual dislike - chiefly shown by her in secret detractions and calumniations;
by the other,
in an excess of frigid formality in her demeanour;
and no fawning flattery of the elder could thaw away the wall of ice which the younger interposed between them.

But
with her son,
the old lady had better success:

he would listen
to all she had
to say,
provided she could soothe his fretful temper,
and refrain from irritating him by her own asperities;
and I have reason
to believe that she considerably strengthened his prejudice against me.

She would tell him that I shamefully neglected the children,
and even his wife did not attend
to them as she ought;
and that he must look after them himself,
or they would all go
to ruin.Thus urged,
he would frequently give himself the trouble of watching them from the windows during their play;
at times,
he would follow them through the grounds,
and too often came suddenly upon them while they were dabbling in the forbidden well,
talking
to the coachman in the stables,
or revelling in the filth of the farm-yard - and I,
meanwhile,
wearily standing,
by,
having previously exhausted my energy in vain attempts
to get them away.

Often,
too,
he would unexpectedly pop his head in
to the schoolroom while the young people were at meals,
and find them spilling their milk over the table and themselves,
plunging their fingers in
to their own or each other's mugs,
or quarrelling over their victuals like a set of tiger's cubs.

If I were quiet at the moment,
I was conniving at their disorderly conduct;
if (as was frequently the case) I happened
to be exalting my voice
to enforce order,
I was using undue violence,
and setting the girls a bad example by such ungentleness of tone and language.I remember one afternoon in spring,
when,
owing
to the rain,
they could not go out;
but,
by some amazing good fortune,
they had all finished their lessons,
and yet abstained from running down
to tease their parents - a trick that annoyed me greatly,
but which,
on rainy days,
I seldom could prevent their doing;
because,
below,
they found novelty and amusement - especially when visitors were in the house;
and their mother,
though she bid me keep them in the schoolroom,
would never chide them
for leaving it,
or trouble herself
to send them back.

But this day they appeared satisfied with,
their present abode,
and what is more wonderful still,
seemed disposed
to play together without depending on me
for amusement,
and without quarrelling
with each other.

Their occupation was a somewhat puzzling one:

they were all squatted together on the floor by the window,
over a heap of broken toys and a quantity of birds' eggs - or rather egg-shells,

for the contents had luckily been abstracted.

These shells they had broken up and were pounding in
to small fragments,

to what end I could not imagine;
but so long as they were quiet and not in positive mischief,
I did not care;
and,

with a feeling of unusual repose,
I sat by the fire,
putting the finishing stitches
to a frock
for Mary Ann's doll;
intending,
when that was done,

to begin a letter
to my mother.

Suddenly the door opened,
and the dingy head of Mr. Bloomfield looked in.'All very quiet here!

What are you doing?' said he.

'No harm TO- DAY,
at least,' thought I.

But he was of a different opinion.

Advancing
to the window,
and seeing the children's occupations,
he testily exclaimed - 'What in the world are you about?'
'We're grinding egg-shells,
papa!' cried Tom.'How DARE you make such a mess,
you little devils?

Don't you see what confounded work you're making of the carpet?' (the carpet was a plain brown drugget).

'Miss Grey,
did you know what they were doing?'
'Yes,
sir.'
'You knew it?'
'Yes.'
'You knew it!

and you actually sat there and permitted them
to go on without a word of reproof!'
'I didn't think they were doing any harm.'
'Any harm!

Why,
look there!

Just look at that carpet,
and see - was there ever anything like it in a Christian house before?

No wonder your room is not fit
for a pigsty - no wonder your pupils are worse than a litter of pigs!

- no wonder - oh!

I declare,
it puts me quite past my patience' and he departed,
shutting the door after him
with a bang that made the children laugh.'It puts me quite past my patience too!' muttered I,
getting up;
and,
seizing the poker,
I dashed it repeatedly in
to the cinders,
and stirred them up
with unwonted energy;
thus easing my irritation under pretence of mending the fire.After this,
Mr. Bloomfield was continually looking in
to see if the schoolroom was in order;
and,
as the children were continually littering the floor
with fragments of toys,
sticks,
stones,
stubble,
leaves,
and other rubbish,
which I could not prevent their bringing,
or oblige them
to gather up,
and which the servants refused
to 'clean after them,' I had
to spend a considerable portion of my valuable leisure moments on my knees upon the floor,
in painsfully reducing things
to order.

Once I told them that they should not taste their supper till they had picked up everything from the carpet;
Fanny might have hers when she had taken up a certain quantity,
Mary Ann when she had gathered twice as many,
and Tom was
to clear away the rest.

Wonderful
to state,
the girls did their part;
but Tom was in such a fury that he flew upon the table,
scattered the bread and milk about the floor,
struck his sisters,
kicked the coals out of the coal-pan,
attempted
to overthrow the table and chairs,
and seemed inclined
to make a Douglas-larder of the whole contents of the room:

but I seized upon him,
and,
sending Mary Ann
to call her mamma,
held him,
in spite of kicks,
blows,
yells,
and execrations,
till Mrs. Bloomfield made her appearance.'What is the matter
with my boy?' said she.And when the matter was explained
to her,
all she did was
to send
for the nursery-maid
to put the room in order,
and bring Master Bloomfield his supper.'There now,' cried Tom,
triumphantly,
looking up from his viands
with his mouth almost too full
for speech.

'There now,
Miss Grey!

you see I've got my supper in spite of you:

and I haven't picked up a single thing!'
The only person in the house who had any real sympathy
for me was the nurse;

for she had suffered like afflictions,
though in a smaller degree;
as she had not the task of teaching,
nor was she so responsible
for the conduct of her charge.'Oh,
Miss Grey!' she would say,
'you have some trouble
with them childer!'
'I have,
indeed,
Betty;
and I daresay you know what it is.'
'Ay,
I do so!

But I don't vex myself o'er 'em as you do.

And then,
you see,
I hit 'em a slap sometimes:

and them little 'uns - I gives 'em a good whipping now and then:

there's nothing else will do
for 'em,
as what they say.

Howsoever,
I've lost my place
for it.'
'Have you,
Betty?

I heard you were going
to leave.'
'Eh,
bless you,
yes!

Missis gave me warning a three wik sin'.

She told me afore Christmas how it mud be,
if I hit 'em again;
but I couldn't hold my hand off 'em at nothing.

I know not how YOU do,

for Miss Mary Ann's worse by the half nor her sisters!'
CHAPTER V - THE UNCLE
BESIDES the old lady,
there was another relative of the family,
whose visits were a great annoyance
to me - this was 'Uncle Robson,' Mrs. Bloomfield's brother;
a tall,
self-sufficient fellow,

with dark hair and sallow complexion like his sister,
a nose that seemed
to disdain the earth,
and little grey eyes,
frequently half- closed,

with a mixture of real stupidity and affected contempt of all surrounding objects.

He was a thick-set,
strongly-built man,
but he had found some means of compressing his waist in
to a remarkably small compass;
and that,
together
with the unnatural stillness of his form,
showed that the lofty-minded,
manly Mr. Robson,
the scorner of the female sex,
was not above the foppery of stays.

He seldom deigned
to notice me;
and,
when he did,
it was
with a certain supercilious insolence of tone and manner that convinced me he was no gentleman:

though it was intended
to have a contrary effect.

But it was not
for that I disliked his coming,
so much as
for the harm he did the children - encouraging all their evil propensities,
and undoing in a few minutes the little good it had taken me months of labour
to achieve.Fanny and little Harriet he seldom condescended
to notice;
but Mary Ann was something of a favourite.

He was continually encouraging her tendency
to affectation (which I had done my utmost
to crush),
talking about her pretty face,
and filling her head
with all manner of conceited notions concerning her personal appearance (which I had instructed her
to regard as dust in the balance compared
with the cultivation of her mind and manners);
and I never saw a child so susceptible of flattery as she was.

Whatever was wrong,
in either her or her brother,
he would encourage by laughing at,
if not by actually praising:

people little know the injury they do
to children by laughing at their faults,
and making a pleasant jest of what their true friends have endeavoured
to teach them
to hold in grave abhorrence.Though not a positive drunkard,
Mr. Robson habitually swallowed great quantities of wine,
and took
with relish an occasional glass of brandy and water.

He taught his nephew
to imitate him in this
to the utmost of his ability,
and
to believe that the more wine and spirits he could take,
and the better he liked them,
the more he manifested his bold,
and manly spirit,
and rose superior
to his sisters.

Mr. Bloomfield had not much
to say against it,

for his favourite beverage was gin and water;
of which he took a considerable portion every day,
by dint of constant sipping - and
to that I chiefly attributed his dingy complexion and waspish temper.Mr. Robson likewise encouraged Tom's propensity
to persecute the lower creation,
both by precept and example.

As he frequently came
to course or shoot over his brother-in-law's grounds,
he would bring his favourite dogs
with him;
and he treated them so brutally that,
poor as I was,
I would have given a sovereign any day
to see one of them bite him,
provided the animal could have done it
with impunity.

Sometimes,
when in a very complacent mood,
he would go a-birds'-nesting
with the children,
a thing that irritated and annoyed me exceedingly;
as,
by frequent and persevering attempts,
I flattered myself I had partly shown them the evil of this pastime,
and hoped,
in time,

to bring them
to some general sense of justice and humanity;
but ten minutes' birds'-nesting
with uncle Robson,
or even a laugh from him at some relation of their former barbarities,
was sufficient at once
to destroy the effect of my whole elaborate course of reasoning and persuasion.

Happily,
however,
during that spring,
they never,
but once,
got anything but empty nests,
or eggs - being too impatient
to leave them till the birds were hatched;
that once,
Tom,
who had been
with his uncle in
to the neighbouring plantation,
came running in high glee in
to the garden,

with a brood of little callow nestlings in his hands.

Mary Ann and Fanny,
whom I was just bringing out,
ran
to admire his spoils,
and
to beg each a bird
for themselves.

'No,
not one!' cried Tom.

'They're all mine;
uncle Robson gave them
to me - one,
two,
three,
four,
five - you shan't touch one of them!

no,
not one,

for your lives!' continued he,
exultingly;
laying the nest on the ground,
and standing over it
with his legs wide apart,
his hands thrust in
to his breeches-pockets,
his body bent forward,
and his face twisted in
to all manner of contortions in the ecstasy of his delight.'But you shall see me fettle 'em off.

My word,
but I WILL wallop 'em?

See if I don't now.

By gum!

but there's rare sport
for me in that nest.'
'But,
Tom,' said I,
'I shall not allow you
to torture those birds.

They must either be killed at once or carried back
to the place you took them from,
that the old birds may continue
to feed them.'
'But you don't know where that is,
Madam:

it's only me and uncle Robson that knows that.'
'But if you don't tell me,
I shall kill them myself - much as I hate it.'
'You daren't.

You daren't touch them
for your life!

because you know papa and mamma,
and uncle Robson,
would be angry.

Ha,
ha!

I've caught you there,
Miss!'
'I shall do what I think right in a case of this sort without consulting any one.

If your papa and mamma don't happen
to approve of it,
I shall be sorry
to offend them;
but your uncle Robson's opinions,
of course,
are nothing
to me.'
So saying - urged by a sense of duty - at the risk of both making myself sick and incurring the wrath of my employers - I got a large flat stone,
that had been reared up
for a mouse-trap by the gardener;
then,
having once more vainly endeavoured
to persuade the little tyrant
to let the birds be carried back,
I asked what he intended
to do
with them.


with fiendish glee he commenced a list of torments;
and while he was busied in the relation,
I dropped the stone upon his intended victims and crushed them flat beneath it.

Loud were the outcries,
terrible the execrations,
consequent upon this daring outrage;
uncle Robson had been coming up the walk
with his gun,
and was just then pausing
to kick his dog.

Tom flew towards him,
vowing he would make him kick me instead of Juno.

Mr. Robson leant upon his gun,
and laughed excessively at the violence of his nephew's passion,
and the bitter maledictions and opprobrious epithets he heaped upon me.

'Well,
you ARE a good 'un!' exclaimed he,
at length,
taking up his weapon and proceeding towards the house.

'Damme,
but the lad has some spunk in him,
too.

Curse me,
if ever I saw a nobler little scoundrel than that.

He's beyond petticoat government already:

by God!

he defies mother,
granny,
governess,
and all!

Ha,
ha,
ha!

Never mind,
Tom,
I'll get you another brood to-morrow.'
'If you do,
Mr. Robson,
I shall kill them too,' said I.'Humph!' replied he,
and having honoured me
with a broad stare - which,
contrary
to his expectations,
I sustained without flinching - he turned away
with an air of supreme contempt,
and stalked in
to the house.

Tom next went
to tell his mamma.

It was not her way
to say much on any subject;
but,
when she next saw me,
her aspect and demeanour were doubly dark and chilled.

After some casual remark about the weather,
she observed - 'I am sorry,
Miss Grey,
you should think it necessary
to interfere
with Master Bloomfield's amusements;
he was very much distressed about your destroying the birds.'
'When Master Bloomfield's amusements consist in injuring sentient creatures,' I answered,
'I think it my duty
to interfere.'
'You seemed
to have forgotten,' said she,
calmly,
'that the creatures were all created
for our convenience.'
I thought that doctrine admitted some doubt,
but merely replied - 'If they were,
we have no right
to torment them
for our amusement.'
'I think,' said she,
'a child's amusement is scarcely
to be weighed against the welfare of a soulless brute.'
'But,

for the child's own sake,
it ought not
to be encouraged
to have such amusements,' answered I,
as meekly as I could,

to make up
for such unusual pertinacity.

'"Blessed are the merciful,

for they shall obtain mercy."

'
'Oh!

of course;
but that refers
to our conduct towards each other.'
'"The merciful man shows mercy
to his beast,"' I ventured
to add.'I think YOU have not shown much mercy,' replied she,

with a short,
bitter laugh;
'killing the poor birds by wholesale in that shocking manner,
and putting the dear boy
to such misery
for a mere whim.'
I judged it prudent
to say no more.

This was the nearest approach
to a quarrel I ever had
with Mrs. Bloomfield;
as well as the greatest number of words I ever exchanged
with her at one time,
since the day of my first arrival.But Mr. Robson and old Mrs. Bloomfield were not the only guests whose coming
to Wellwood House annoyed me;
every visitor disturbed me more or less;
not so much because they neglected me (though I did feel their conduct strange and disagreeable in that respect),
as because I found it impossible
to keep my pupils away from them,
as I was repeatedly desired
to do:

Tom must talk
to them,
and Mary Ann must be noticed by them.

Neither the one nor the other knew what it was
to feel any degree of shamefacedness,
or even common modesty.

They would indecently and clamorously interrupt the conversation of their elders,
tease them
with the most impertinent questions,
roughly collar the gentlemen,
climb their knees uninvited,
hang about their shoulders or rifle their pockets,
pull the ladies' gowns,
disorder their hair,
tumble their collars,
and importunately beg
for their trinkets.Mrs. Bloomfield had the sense
to be shocked and annoyed at all this,
but she had not sense
to prevent it:

she expected me
to prevent it.

But how could I - when the guests,

with their fine clothes and new faces,
continually flattered and indulged them,
out of complaisance
to their parents - how could I,

with my homely garments,
every-day face,
and honest words,
draw them away?

I strained every nerve
to do so:

by striving
to amuse them,
I endeavoured
to attract them
to my side;
by the exertion of such authority as I possessed,
and by such severity as I dared
to use,
I tried
to deter them from tormenting the guests;
and by reproaching their unmannerly conduct,

to make them ashamed
to repeat it.

But they knew no shame;
they scorned authority which had no terrors
to back it;
and as
for kindness and affection,
either they had no hearts,
or such as they had were so strongly guarded,
and so well concealed,
that I,

with all my efforts,
had not yet discovered how
to reach them.But soon my trials in this quarter came
to a close - sooner than I either expected or desired;

for one sweet evening towards the close of May,
as I was rejoicing in the near approach of the holidays,
and congratulating myself upon having made some progress
with my pupils (as far as their learning went,
at least,

for I HAD instilled SOMETHING in
to their heads,
and I had,
at length,
brought them
to be a little - a very little - more rational about getting their lessons done in time
to leave some space
for recreation,
instead of tormenting themselves and me all day long
to no purpose),
Mrs. Bloomfield sent
for me,
and calmly told me that after Midsummer my services would be no longer required.

She assured me that my character and general conduct were unexceptionable;
but the children had made so little improvement since my arrival that Mr. Bloomfield and she felt it their duty
to seek some other mode of instruction.

Though superior
to most children of their years in abilities,
they were decidedly behind them in attainments;
their manners were uncultivated,
and their tempers unruly.

And this she attributed
to a want of sufficient firmness,
and diligent,
persevering care on my part.Unshaken firmness,
devoted diligence,
unwearied perseverance,
unceasing care,
were the very qualifications on which I had secretly prided myself;
and by which I had hoped in time
to overcome all difficulties,
and obtain success at last.

I wished
to say something in my own justification;
but in attempting
to speak,
I felt my voice falter;
and rather than testify any emotion,
or suffer the tears
to overflow that were already gathering in my eyes,
I chose
to keep silence,
and bear all like a self-convicted culprit.Thus was I dismissed,
and thus I sought my home.

Alas!

what would they think of me?

unable,
after all my boasting,

to keep my place,
even
for a single year,
as governess
to three small children,
whose mother was asserted by my own aunt
to be a 'very nice woman.' Having been thus weighed in the balance and found wanting,
I need not hope they would be willing
to try me again.

And this was an unwelcome thought;

for vexed,
harassed,
disappointed as I had been,
and greatly as I had learned
to love and value my home,
I was not yet weary of adventure,
nor willing
to relax my efforts.

I knew that all parents were not like Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield,
and I was certain all children were not like theirs.

The next family must be different,
and any change must be
for the better.

I had been seasoned by adversity,
and tutored by experience,
and I longed
to redeem my lost honour in the eyes of those whose opinion was more than that of all the world
to me.


CHAPTER VI - THE PARSONAGE AGAIN

FOR a few months I remained peaceably at home,
in the quiet enjoyment of liberty and rest,
and genuine friendship,
from all of which I had fasted so long;
and in the earnest prosecution of my studies,

to recover what I had lost during my stay at Wellwood House,
and
to lay in new stores
for future use.

My father's health was still very infirm,
but not materially worse than when I last saw him;
and I was glad I had it in my power
to cheer him by my return,
and
to amuse him
with singing his favourite songs.No one triumphed over my failure,
or said I had better have taken his or her advice,
and quietly stayed at home.

All were glad
to have me back again,
and lavished more kindness than ever upon me,

to make up
for the sufferings I had undergone;
but not one would touch a shilling of what I had so cheerfully earned and so carefully saved,
in the hope of sharing it
with them.

By dint of pinching here,
and scraping there,
our debts were already nearly paid.

Mary had had good success
with her drawings;
but our father had insisted upon HER likewise keeping all the produce of her industry
to herself.

All we could spare from the supply of our humble wardrobe and our little casual expenses,
he directed us
to put in
to the savings'-bank;
saying,
we knew not how soon we might be dependent on that alone
for support:


for he felt he had not long
to be
with us,
and what would become of our mother and us when he was gone,
God only knew!
Dear papa!

if he had troubled himself less about the afflictions that threatened us in case of his death,
I am convinced that dreaded event would not have taken place so soon.

My mother would never suffer him
to ponder on the subject if she could help it.'Oh,
Richard!' exclaimed she,
on one occasion,
'if you would but dismiss such gloomy subjects from your mind,
you would live as long as any of us;
at least you would live
to see the girls married,
and yourself a happy grandfather,

with a canty old dame
for your companion.'
My mother laughed,
and so did my father:

but his laugh soon perished in a dreary sigh.'THEY married - poor penniless things!' said he;
'who will take them I wonder!'
'Why,
nobody shall that isn't thankful
for them.

Wasn't I penniless when you took me?

and you PRETENDED,
at least,

to be vastly pleased
with your acquisition.

But it's no matter whether they get married or not:

we can devise a thousand honest ways of making a livelihood.

And I wonder,
Richard,
you can think of bothering your head about our POVERTY in case of your death;
as if THAT would be anything compared
with the calamity of losing you - an affliction that you well know would swallow up all others,
and which you ought
to do your utmost
to preserve us from:

and there is nothing like a cheerful mind
for keeping the body in health.'
'I know,
Alice,
it is wrong
to keep repining as I do,
but I cannot help it:

you must bear
with me.'
'I WON'T bear
with you,
if I can alter you,' replied my mother:

but the harshness of her words was undone by the earnest affection of her tone and pleasant smile,
that made my father smile again,
less sadly and less transiently than was his wont.'Mamma,' said I,
as soon as I could find an opportunity of speaking
with her alone,
'my money is but little,
and cannot last long;
if I could increase it,
it would lessen papa's anxiety,
on one subject at least.

I cannot draw like Mary,
and so the best thing I could do would be
to look out
for another situation.'
'And so you would actually try again,
Agnes?'
'Decidedly,
I would.'
'Why,
my dear,
I should have thought you had had enough of it.'
'I know,' said I,
'everybody is not like Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield - '
'Some are worse,' interrupted my mother.'But not many,
I think,' replied I,
'and I'm sure all children are not like theirs;

for I and Mary were not:

we always did as you bid us,
didn't we?'
'Generally:

but then,
I did not spoil you;
and you were not perfect angels after all:

Mary had a fund of quiet obstinacy,
and you were somewhat faulty in regard
to temper;
but you were very good children on the whole.'
'I know I was sulky sometimes,
and I should have been glad
to see these children sulky sometimes too;

for then I could have understood them:

but they never were,

for they COULD not be offended,
nor hurt,
nor ashamed:

they could not be unhappy in any way,
except when they were in a passion.'
'Well,
if they COULD not,
it was not their fault:

you cannot expect stone
to be as pliable as clay.'
'No,
but still it is very unpleasant
to live
with such unimpressible,
incomprehensible creatures.

You cannot love them;
and if you could,
your love would be utterly thrown away:

they could neither return it,
nor value,
nor understand it.

But,
however,
even if I should stumble on such a family again,
which is quite unlikely,
I have all this experience
to begin with,
and I should manage better another time;
and the end and aim of this preamble is,
let me try again.'
'Well,
my girl,
you are not easily discouraged,
I see:

I am glad of that.

But,
let me tell you,
you are a good deal paler and thinner than when you first left home;
and we cannot have you undermining your health
to hoard up money either
for yourself or others.'
'Mary tells me I am changed too;
and I don't much wonder at it,

for I was in a constant state of agitation and anxiety all day long:

but next time I am determined
to take things coolly.'
After some further discussion,
my mother promised once more
to assist me,
provided I would wait and be patient;
and I left her
to broach the matter
to my father,
when and how she deemed it most advisable:

never doubting her ability
to obtain his consent.

Meantime,
I searched,

with great interest,
the advertising columns of the newspapers,
and wrote answers
to every 'Wanted a Governess' that appeared at all eligible;
but all my letters,
as well as the replies,
when I got any,
were dutifully shown
to my mother;
and she,

to my chagrin,
made me reject the situations one after another:

these were low people,
these were too exacting in their demands,
and these too niggardly in their remuneration.'Your talents are not such as every poor clergyman's daughter possesses,
Agnes,' she would say,
'and you must not throw them away.

Remember,
you promised
to be patient:

there is no need of hurry:

you have plenty of time before you,
and may have many chances yet.'
At length,
she advised me
to put an advertisement,
myself,
in the paper,
stating my qualifications,
&c.'Music,
singing,
drawing,
French,
Latin,
and German,' said she,
'are no mean assemblage:

many will be glad
to have so much in one instructor;
and this time,
you shall try your fortune in a somewhat higher family in that of some genuine,
thoroughbred gentleman;

for such are far more likely
to treat you
with proper respect and consideration than those purse-proud tradespeople and arrogant upstarts.

I have known several among the higher ranks who treated their governesses quite as one of the family;
though some,
I allow,
are as insolent and exacting as any one else can be:


for there are bad and good in all classes.'
The advertisement was quickly written and despatched.

Of the two parties who answered it,
but one would consent
to give me fifty pounds,
the sum my mother bade me name as the salary I should require;
and here,
I hesitated about engaging myself,
as I feared the children would be too old,
and their parents would require some one more showy,
or more experienced,
if not more accomplished than I.

But my mother dissuaded me from declining it on that account:

I should do vastly well,
she said,
if I would only throw aside my diffidence,
and acquire a little more confidence in myself.

I was just
to give a plain,
true statement of my acquirements and qualifications,
and name what stipulations I chose
to make,
and then await the result.

The only stipulation I ventured
to propose,
was that I might be allowed two months' holidays during the year
to visit my friends,
at Midsummer and Christmas.

The unknown lady,
in her reply,
made no objection
to this,
and stated that,
as
to my acquirements,
she had no doubt I should be able
to give satisfaction;
but in the engagement of governesses she considered those things as but subordinate points;
as being situated in the neighbourhood of O-,
she could get masters
to supply any deficiencies in that respect:

but,
in her opinion,
next
to unimpeachable morality,
a mild and cheerful temper and obliging disposition were the most essential requisities.My mother did not relish this at all,
and now made many objections
to my accepting the situation;
in which my sister warmly supported her:

but,
unwilling
to be balked again,
I overruled them all;
and,
having first obtained the consent of my father (who had,
a short time previously,
been apprised of these transactions),
I wrote a most obliging epistle
to my unknown correspondent,
and,
finally,
the bargain was concluded.It was decreed that on the last day of January I was
to enter upon my new office as governess in the family of Mr. Murray,
of Horton Lodge,
near O-,
about seventy miles from our village:

a formidable distance
to me,
as I had never been above twenty miles from home in all the course of my twenty years' sojourn on earth;
and as,
moreover,
every individual in that family and in the neighbourhood was utterly unknown
to myself and all my acquaintances.

But this rendered it only the more piquant
to me.

I had now,
in some measure,
got rid of the MAUVAISE HONTE that had formerly oppressed me so much;
there was a pleasing excitement in the idea of entering these unknown regions,
and making my way alone among its strange inhabitants.

I now flattered myself I was going
to see something in the world:

Mr. Murray's residence was near a large town,
and not in a manufacturing district,
where the people had nothing
to do but
to make money;
his rank from what I could gather,
appeared
to be higher than that of Mr. Bloomfield;
and,
doubtless,
he was one of those genuine thorough-bred gentry my mother spoke of,
who would treat his governess
with due consideration as a respectable well- educated lady,
the instructor and guide of his children,
and not a mere upper servant.

Then,
my pupils being older,
would be more rational,
more teachable,
and less troublesome than the last;
they would be less confined
to the schoolroom,
and not require that constant labour and incessant watching;
and,
finally,
bright visions mingled
with my hopes,

with which the care of children and the mere duties of a governess had little or nothing
to do.

Thus,
the reader will see that I had no claim
to be regarded as a martyr
to filial piety,
going forth
to sacrifice peace and liberty
for the sole purpose of laying up stores
for the comfort and support of my parents:

though certainly the comfort of my father,
and the future support of my mother,
had a large share in my calculations;
and fifty pounds appeared
to me no ordinary sum.

I must have decent clothes becoming my station;
I must,
it seemed,
put out my washing,
and also pay
for my four annual journeys between Horton Lodge and home;
but
with strict attention
to economy,
surely twenty pounds,
or little more,
would cover those expenses,
and then there would be thirty
for the bank,
or little less:

what a valuable addition
to our stock!

Oh,
I must struggle
to keep this situation,
whatever it might be!

both
for my own honour among my friends and
for the solid services I might render them by my continuance there.


CHAPTER VII - HORTON LODGE
THE 31st of January was a wild,
tempestuous day:

there was a strong north wind,

with a continual storm of snow drifting on the ground and whirling through the air.

My friends would have had me delay my departure,
but fearful of prejudicing my employers against me by such want of punctuality at the commencement of my undertaking,
I persisted in keeping the appointment.I will not inflict upon my readers an account of my leaving home on that dark winter morning:

the fond farewells,
the long,
long journey
to O-,
the solitary waitings in inns
for coaches or trains -
for there were some railways then - and,
finally,
the meeting at O-
with Mr. Murray's servant,
who had been sent
with the phaeton
to drive me from thence
to Horton Lodge.

I will just state that the heavy snow had thrown such impediments in the way of both horses and steam-engines,
that it was dark some hours before I reached my journey's end,
and that a most bewildering storm came on at last,
which made the few miles' space between O- and Horton Lodge a long and formidable passage.

I sat resigned,

with the cold,
sharp snow drifting through my veil and filling my lap,
seeing nothing,
and wondering how the unfortunate horse and driver could make their way even as well as they did;
and indeed it was but a toilsome,
creeping style of progression,

to say the best of it.

At length we paused;
and,
at the call of the driver,
someone unlatched and rolled back upon their creaking hinges what appeared
to be the park gates.

Then we proceeded along a smoother road,
whence,
occasionally,
I perceived some huge,
hoary mass gleaming through the darkness,
which I took
to be a portion of a snow-clad tree.

After a considerable time we paused again,
before the stately portico of a large house
with long windows descending
to the ground.I rose
with some difficulty from under the superincumbent snowdrift,
and alighted from the carriage,
expecting that a kind and hospitable reception would indemnify me
for the toils and hardships of the day.

A gentleman person in black opened the door,
and admitted me in
to a spacious hall,
lighted by an amber-coloured lamp suspended from the ceiling;
he led me through this,
along a passage,
and opening the door of a back room,
told me that was the schoolroom.

I entered,
and found two young ladies and two young gentlemen - my future pupils,
I supposed.

After a formal greeting,
the elder girl,
who was trifling over a piece of canvas and a basket of German wools,
asked if I should like
to go upstairs.

I replied in the affirmative,
of course.'Matilda,
take a candle,
and show her her room,' said she.Miss Matilda,
a strapping hoyden of about fourteen,

with a short frock and trousers,
shrugged her shoulders and made a slight grimace,
but took a candle and proceeded before me up the back stairs (a long,
steep,
double flight),
and through a long,
narrow passage,

to a small but tolerably comfortable room.

She then asked me if I would take some tea or coffee.

I was about
to answer No;
but remembering that I had taken nothing since seven o'clock that morning,
and feeling faint in consequence,
I said I would take a cup of tea.

Saying she would tell 'Brown,' the young lady departed;
and by the time I had divested myself of my heavy,
wet cloak,
shawl,
bonnet,
&c.,
a mincing damsel came
to say the young ladies desired
to know whether I would take my tea up there or in the schoolroom.

Under the plea of fatigue I chose
to take it there.

She withdrew;
and,
after a while,
returned again
with a small tea-tray,
and placed it on the chest of drawers,
which served as a dressing-table.

Having civilly thanked her,
I asked at what time I should be expected
to rise in the morning.'The young ladies and gentlemen breakfast at half-past eight,
ma'am,' said she;
'they rise early;
but,
as they seldom do any lessons before breakfast,
I should think it will do if you rise soon after seven.'
I desired her
to be so kind as
to call me at seven,
and,
promising
to do so,
she withdrew.

Then,
having broken my long fast on a cup of tea and a little thin bread and butter,
I sat down beside the small,
smouldering fire,
and amused myself
with a hearty fit of crying;
after which,
I said my prayers,
and then,
feeling considerably relieved,
began
to prepare
for bed.

Finding that none of my luggage was brought up,
I instituted a search
for the bell;
and failing
to discover any signs of such a convenience in any corner of the room,
I took my candle and ventured through the long passage,
and down the steep stairs,
on a voyage of discovery.

Meeting a well-dressed female on the way,
I told her what I wanted;
but not without considerable hesitation,
as I was not quite sure whether it was one of the upper servants,
or Mrs. Murray herself:

it happened,
however,

to be the lady's-maid.


with the air of one conferring an unusual favour,
she vouchsafed
to undertake the sending up of my things;
and when I had re-entered my room,
and waited and wondered a long time (greatly fearing that she had forgotten or neglected
to perform her promise,
and doubting whether
to keep waiting or go
to bed,
or go down again),
my hopes,
at length,
were revived by the sound of voices and laughter,
accompanied by the tramp of feet along the passage;
and presently the luggage was brought in by a rough-looking maid and a man,
neither of them very respectful in their demeanour
to me.

Having shut the door upon their retiring footsteps,
and unpacked a few of my things,
I betook myself
to rest;
gladly enough,

for I was weary in body and mind.It was
with a strange feeling of desolation,
mingled
with a strong sense of the novelty of my situation,
and a joyless kind of curiosity concerning what was yet unknown,
that I awoke the next morning;
feeling like one whirled away by enchantment,
and suddenly dropped from the clouds in
to a remote and unknown land,
widely and completely isolated from all he had ever seen or known before;
or like a thistle-seed borne on the wind
to some strange nook of uncongenial soil,
where it must lie long enough before it can take root and germinate,
extracting nourishment from what appears so alien
to its nature:

if,
indeed,
it ever can.

But this gives no proper idea of my feelings at all;
and no one that has not lived such a retired,
stationary life as mine,
can possibly imagine what they were:

hardly even if he has known what it is
to awake some morning,
and find himself in Port Nelson,
in New Zealand,

with a world of waters between himself and all that knew him.I shall not soon forget the peculiar feeling
with which I raised my blind and looked out upon the unknown world:

a wide,
white wilderness was all that met my gaze;
a waste of
Deserts tossed in snow,
And heavy laden groves.

I descended
to the schoolroom
with no remarkable eagerness
to join my pupils,
though not without some feeling of curiosity respecting what a further acquaintance would reveal.

One thing,
among others of more obvious importance,
I determined
with myself - I must begin
with calling them Miss and Master.

It seemed
to me a chilling and unnatural piece of punctilio between the children of a family and their instructor and daily companion;
especially where the former were in their early childhood,
as at Wellwood House;
but even there,
my calling the little Bloomfields by their simple names had been regarded as an offensive liberty:

as their parents had taken care
to show me,
by carefully designating them MASTER and MISS Bloomfield,
&c.,
in speaking
to me.

I had been very slow
to take the hint,
because the whole affair struck me as so very absurd;
but now I determined
to be wiser,
and begin at once
with as much form and ceremony as any member of the family would be likely
to require:

and,
indeed,
the children being so much older,
there would be less difficulty;
though the little words Miss and Master seemed
to have a surprising effect in repressing all familiar,
open-hearted kindness,
and extinguishing every gleam of cordiality that might arise between us.As I cannot,
like Dogberry,
find it in my heart
to bestow all my tediousness upon the reader,
I will not go on
to bore him
with a minute detail of all the discoveries and proceedings of this and the following day.

No doubt he will be amply satisfied
with a slight sketch of the different members of the family,
and a general view of the first year or two of my sojourn among them.
to begin
with the head:

Mr. Murray was,
by all accounts,
a blustering,
roystering,
country squire:

a devoted fox-hunter,
a skilful horse-jockey and farrier,
an active,
practical farmer,
and a hearty BON VIVANT.

By all accounts,
I say;
for,
except on Sundays,
when he went
to church,
I never saw him from month
to month:

unless,
in crossing the hall or walking in the grounds,
the figure of a tall,
stout gentleman,

with scarlet cheeks and crimson nose,
happened
to come across me;
on which occasions,
if he passed near enough
to speak,
an unceremonious nod,
accompanied by a 'Morning,
Miss Grey,' or some such brief salutation,
was usually vouchsafed.

Frequently,
indeed,
his loud laugh reached me from afar;
and oftener still I heard him swearing and blaspheming against the footmen,
groom,
coachman,
or some other hapless dependant.Mrs. Murray was a handsome,
dashing lady of forty,
who certainly required neither rouge nor padding
to add
to her charms;
and whose chief enjoyments were,
or seemed
to be,
in giving or frequenting parties,
and in dressing at the very top of the fashion.

I did not see her till eleven o'clock on the morning after my arrival;
when she honoured me
with a visit,
just as my mother might step in
to the kitchen
to see a new servant-girl:

yet not so,
either,

for my mother would have seen her immediately after her arrival,
and not waited till the next day;
and,
moreover,
she would have addressed her in a more kind and friendly manner,
and given her some words of comfort as well as a plain exposition of her duties;
but Mrs. Murray did neither the one nor the other.

She just stepped in
to the schoolroom on her return from ordering dinner in the housekeeper's room,
bade me good-morning,
stood
for two minutes by the fire,
said a few words about the weather and the 'rather rough' journey I must have had yesterday;
petted her youngest child - a boy of ten - who had just been wiping his mouth and hands on her gown,
after indulging in some savoury morsel from the house- keeper's store;
told me what a sweet,
good boy he was;
and then sailed out,

with a self-complacent smile upon her face:

thinking,
no doubt,
that she had done quite enough
for the present,
and had been delightfully condescending in
to the bargain.

Her children evidently held the same opinion,
and I alone thought otherwise.After this she looked in upon me once or twice,
during the absence of my pupils,

to enlighten me concerning my duties towards them.


for the girls she seemed anxious only
to render them as superficially attractive and showily accomplished as they could possibly be made,
without present trouble or discomfort
to themselves;
and I was
to act accordingly -
to study and strive
to amuse and oblige,
instruct,
refine,
and polish,

with the least possible exertion on their part,
and no exercise of authority on mine.


with regard
to the two boys,
it was much the same;
only instead of accomplishments,
I was
to get the greatest possible quantity of Latin grammar and Valpy's Delectus in
to their heads,
in order
to fit them
for school - the greatest possible quantity at least WITHOUT trouble
to themselves.

John might be a 'little high- spirited,' and Charles might be a little 'nervous and tedious - '
'But at all events,
Miss Grey,' said she,
'I hope YOU will keep your temper,
and be mild and patient throughout;
especially
with the dear little Charles;
he is so extremely nervous and susceptible,
and so utterly unaccustomed
to anything but the tenderest treatment.

You will excuse my naming these things
to you;

for the fact is,
I have hither
to found all the governesses,
even the very best of them,
faulty in this particular.

They wanted that meek and quiet spirit,
which St.

Matthew,
or some of them,
says is better than the putting on of apparel - you will know the passage
to which I allude,

for you are a clergyman's daughter.

But I have no doubt you will give satisfaction in this respect as well as the rest.

And remember,
on all occasions,
when any of the young people do anything improper,
if persuasion and gentle remonstrance will not do,
let one of the others come and tell me;

for I can speak
to them more plainly than it would be proper
for you
to do.

And make them as happy as you can,
Miss Grey,
and I dare say you will do very well.'
I observed that while Mrs. Murray was so extremely solicitous
for the comfort and happiness of her children,
and continually talking about it,
she never once mentioned mine;
though they were at home,
surrounded by friends,
and I an alien among strangers;
and I did not yet know enough of the world,
not
to be considerably surprised at this anomaly.Miss Murray,
otherwise Rosalie,
was about sixteen when I came,
and decidedly a very pretty girl;
and in two years longer,
as time more completely developed her form and added grace
to her carriage and deportment,
she became positively beautiful;
and that in no common degree.

She was tall and slender,
yet not thin;
perfectly formed,
exquisitely fair,
though not without a brilliant,
healthy bloom;
her hair,
which she wore in a profusion of long ringlets,
was of a very light brown inclining
to yellow;
her eyes were pale blue,
but so clear and bright that few would wish them darker;
the rest of her features were small,
not quite regular,
and not remarkably otherwise:

but altogether you could not hesitate
to pronounce her a very lovely girl.

I wish I could say as much
for mind and disposition as I can
for her form and face.Yet think not I have any dreadful disclosures
to make:

she was lively,
light-hearted,
and could be very agreeable,

with those who did not cross her will.

Towards me,
when I first came,
she was cold and haughty,
then insolent and overbearing;
but,
on a further acquaintance,
she gradually laid aside her airs,
and in time became as deeply attached
to me as it was possible
for HER
to be
to one of my character and position:


for she seldom lost sight,

for above half an hour at a time,
of the fact of my being a hireling and a poor curate's daughter.

And yet,
upon the whole,
I believe she respected me more than she herself was aware of;
because I was the only person in the house who steadily professed good principles,
habitually spoke the truth,
and generally endeavoured
to make inclination bow
to duty;
and this I say,
not,
of course,
in commendation of myself,
but
to show the unfortunate state of the family
to which my services were,

for the present,
devoted.

There was no member of it in whom I regretted this sad want of principle so much as Miss Murray herself;
not only because she had taken a fancy
to me,
but because there was so much of what was pleasant and prepossessing in herself,
that,
in spite of her failings,
I really liked her - when she did not rouse my indignation,
or ruffle my temper by TOO great a display of her faults.

These,
however,
I would fain persuade myself were rather the effect of her education than her disposition:

she had never been perfectly taught the distinction between right and wrong;
she had,
like her brothers and sisters,
been suffered,
from infancy,

to tyrannize over nurses,
governesses,
and servants;
she had not been taught
to moderate her desires,

to control her temper or bridle her will,
or
to sacrifice her own pleasure
for the good of others.

Her temper being naturally good,
she was never violent or morose,
but from constant indulgence,
and habitual scorn of reason,
she was often testy and capricious;
her mind had never been cultivated:

her intellect,
at best,
was somewhat shallow;
she possessed considerable vivacity,
some quickness of perception,
and some talent
for music and the acquisition of languages,
but till fifteen she had troubled herself
to acquire nothing;
- then the love of display had roused her faculties,
and induced her
to apply herself,
but only
to the more showy accomplishments.

And when I came it was the same:

everything was neglected but French,
German,
music,
singing,
dancing,
fancy-work,
and a little drawing - such drawing as might produce the greatest show
with the smallest labour,
and the principal parts of which were generally done by me.


for music and singing,
besides my occasional instructions,
she had the attendance of the best master the country afforded;
and in these accomplishments,
as well as in dancing,
she certainly attained great proficiency.


to music,
indeed,
she devoted too much of her time,
as,
governess though I was,
I frequently told her;
but her mother thought that if SHE liked it,
she COULD not give too much time
to the acquisition of so attractive an art.

Of fancy-work I knew nothing but what I gathered from my pupil and my own observation;
but no sooner was I initiated,
than she made me useful in twenty different ways:

all the tedious parts of her work were shifted on
to my shoulders;
such as stretching the frames,
stitching in the canvas,
sorting the wools and silks,
putting in the grounds,
counting the stitches,
rectifying mistakes,
and finishing the pieces she was tired of.At sixteen,
Miss Murray was something of a romp,
yet not more so than is natural and allowable
for a girl of that age,
but at seventeen,
that propensity,
like all other things,
began
to give way
to the ruling passion,
and soon was swallowed up in the all- absorbing ambition
to attract and dazzle the other sex.

But enough of her:

now let us turn
to her sister.Miss Matilda Murray was a veritable hoyden,
of whom little need be said.

She was about two years and a half younger than her sister;
her features were larger,
her complexion much darker.

She might possibly make a handsome woman;
but she was far too big-boned and awkward ever
to be called a pretty girl,
and at present she cared little about it.

Rosalie knew all her charms,
and thought them even greater than they were,
and valued them more highly than she ought
to have done,
had they been three times as great;
Matilda thought she was well enough,
but cared little about the matter;
still less did she care about the cultivation of her mind,
and the acquisition of ornamental accomplishments.

The manner in which she learnt her lessons and practised her music was calculated
to drive any governess
to despair.

Short and easy as her tasks were,
if done at all,
they were slurred over,
at any time and in any way;
but generally at the least convenient times,
and in the way least beneficial
to herself,
and least satisfactory
to me:

the short half-hour of practising was horribly strummed through;
she,
meantime,
unsparingly abusing me,
either
for interrupting her
with corrections,
or
for not rectifying her mistakes before they were made,
or something equally unreasonable.

Once or twice,
I ventured
to remonstrate
with her seriously
for such irrational conduct;
but on each of those occasions,
I received such reprehensive expostulations from her mother,
as convinced me that,
if I wished
to keep the situation,
I must even let Miss Matilda go on in her own way.When her lessons were over,
however,
her ill-humour was generally over too:

while riding her spirited pony,
or romping
with the dogs or her brothers and sister,
but especially
with her dear brother John,
she was as happy as a lark.

As an animal,
Matilda was all right,
full of life,
vigour,
and activity;
as an intelligent being,
she was barbarously ignorant,
indocile,
careless and irrational;
and,
consequently,
very distressing
to one who had the task of cultivating her understanding,
reforming her manners,
and aiding her
to acquire those ornamental attainments which,
unlike her sister,
she despised as much as the rest.

Her mother was partly aware of her deficiencies,
and gave me many a lecture as
to how I should try
to form her tastes,
and endeavour
to rouse and cherish her dormant vanity;
and,
by insinuating,
skilful flattery,

to win her attention
to the desired objects - which I would not do;
and how I should prepare and smooth the path of learning till she could glide along it without the least exertion
to herself:

which I could not,

for nothing can be taught
to any purpose without some little exertion on the part of the learner.As a moral agent,
Matilda was reckless,
headstrong,
violent,
and unamenable
to reason.

One proof of the deplorable state of her mind was,
that from her father's example she had learned
to swear like a trooper.

Her mother was greatly shocked at the 'unlady-like trick,' and wondered 'how she had picked it up.' 'But you can soon break her of it,
Miss Grey,' said she:

'it is only a habit;
and if you will just gently remind her every time she does so,
I am sure she will soon lay it aside.' I not only 'gently reminded' her,
I tried
to impress upon her how wrong it was,
and how distressing
to the ears of decent people:

but all in vain:

I was only answered by a careless laugh,
and,
'Oh,
Miss Grey,
how shocked you are!

I'm so glad!' or,
'Well!

I can't help it;
papa shouldn't have taught me:

I learned it all from him;
and maybe a bit from the coachman.'
Her brother John,
ALIAS Master Murray,
was about eleven when I came:

a fine,
stout,
healthy boy,
frank and good-natured in the main,
and might have been a decent lad had he been properly educated;
but now he was as rough as a young bear,
boisterous,
unruly,
unprincipled,
untaught,
unteachable - at least,

for a governess under his mother's eye.

His masters at school might be able
to manage him better -
for
to school he was sent,
greatly
to my relief,
in the course of a year;
in a state,
it is true,
of scandalous ignorance as
to Latin,
as well as the more useful though more neglected things:

and this,
doubtless,
would all be laid
to the account of his education having been entrusted
to an ignorant female teacher,
who had presumed
to take in hand what she was wholly incompetent
to perform.

I was not delivered from his brother till full twelve months after,
when he also was despatched in the same state of disgraceful ignorance as the former.Master Charles was his mother's peculiar darling.

He was little more than a year younger than John,
but much smaller,
paler,
and less active and robust;
a pettish,
cowardly,
capricious,
selfish little fellow,
only active in doing mischief,
and only clever in inventing falsehoods:

not simply
to hide his faults,
but,
in mere malicious wantonness,

to bring odium upon others.

In fact,
Master Charles was a very great nuisance
to me:

it was a trial of patience
to live
with him peaceably;

to watch over him was worse;
and
to teach him,
or pretend
to teach him,
was inconceivable.

At ten years old,
he could not read correctly the easiest line in the simplest book;
and as,
according
to his mother's principle,
he was
to be told every word,
before he had time
to hesitate or examine its orthography,
and never even
to be informed,
as a stimulant
to exertion,
that other boys were more forward than he,
it is not surprising that he made but little progress during the two years I had charge of his education.

His minute portions of Latin grammar,
&c.,
were
to be repeated over
to him,
till he chose
to say he knew them,
and then he was
to be helped
to say them;
if he made mistakes in his little easy sums in arithmetic,
they were
to be shown him at once,
and the sum done
for him,
instead of his being left
to exercise his faculties in finding them out himself;
so that,
of course,
he took no pains
to avoid mistakes,
but frequently set down his figures at random,
without any calculation at all.I did not invariably confine myself
to these rules:

it was against my conscience
to do so;
but I seldom could venture
to deviate from them in the slightest degree,
without incurring the wrath of my little pupil,
and subsequently of his mamma;

to whom he would relate my transgressions maliciously exaggerated,
or adorned
with embellishments of his own;
and often,
in consequence,
was I on the point of losing or resigning my situation.

But,

for their sakes at home,
I smothered my pride and suppressed my indignation,
and managed
to struggle on till my little tormentor was despatched
to school;
his father declaring that home education was 'no go;

for him,
it was plain;
his mother spoiled him outrageously,
and his governess could make no hand of him at all.'
A few more observations about Horton Lodge and its ongoings,
and I have done
with dry description
for the present.

The house was a very respectable one;
superior
to Mr. Bloomfield's,
both in age,
size,
and magnificence:

the garden was not so tastefully laid out;
but instead of the smooth-shaven lawn,
the young trees guarded by palings,
the grove of upstart poplars,
and the plantation of firs,
there was a wide park,
stocked
with deer,
and beautified by fine old trees.

The surrounding country itself was pleasant,
as far as fertile fields,
flourishing trees,
quiet green lanes,
and smiling hedges
with wild-flowers scattered along their banks,
could make it;
but it was depressingly flat
to one born and nurtured among the rugged hills of -.We were situated nearly two miles from the village church,
and,
consequently,
the family carriage was put in requisition every Sunday morning,
and sometimes oftener.

Mr. and Mrs. Murray generally thought it sufficient
to show themselves at church once in the course of the day;
but frequently the children preferred going a second time
to wandering about the grounds all the day
with nothing
to do.

If some of my pupils chose
to walk and take me
with them,
it was well
for me;

for otherwise my position in the carriage was
to be crushed in
to the corner farthest from the open window,
and
with my back
to the horses:

a position which invariably made me sick;
and if I were not actually obliged
to leave the church in the middle of the service,
my devotions were disturbed
with a feeling of languor and sickliness,
and the tormenting fear of its becoming worse:

and a depressing headache was generally my companion throughout the day,
which would otherwise have been one of welcome rest,
and holy,
calm enjoyment.'It's very odd,
Miss Grey,
that the carriage should always make you sick:

it never makes ME,' remarked Miss Matilda,
'Nor me either,' said her sister;
'but I dare say it would,
if I sat where she does - such a nasty,
horrid place,
Miss Grey;
I wonder how you can bear it!'
'I am obliged
to bear it,
since no choice is left me,' - I might have answered;
but in tenderness
for their feelings I only replied,
- 'Oh!

it is but a short way,
and if I am not sick in church,
I don't mind it.'
If I were called upon
to give a description of the usual divisions and arrangements of the day,
I should find it a very difficult matter.

I had all my meals in the schoolroom
with my pupils,
at such times as suited their fancy:

sometimes they would ring
for dinner before it was half cooked;
sometimes they would keep it waiting on the table
for above an hour,
and then be out of humour because the potatoes were cold,
and the gravy covered
with cakes of solid fat;
sometimes they would have tea at four;
frequently,
they would storm at the servants because it was not in precisely at five;
and when these orders were obeyed,
by way of encouragement
to punctuality,
they would keep it on the table till seven or eight.Their hours of study were managed in much the same way;
my judgment or convenience was never once consulted.

Sometimes Matilda and John would determine '
to get all the plaguy business over before breakfast,' and send the maid
to call me up at half-past five,
without any scruple or apology;
sometimes,
I was told
to be ready precisely at six,
and,
having dressed in a hurry,
came down
to an empty room,
and after waiting a long time in suspense,
discovered that they had changed their minds,
and were still in bed;
or,
perhaps,
if it were a fine summer morning,
Brown would come
to tell me that the young ladies and gentlemen had taken a holiday,
and were gone out;
and then I was kept waiting
for breakfast till I was almost ready
to faint:

they having fortified themselves
with something before they went.Often they would do their lessons in the open air;
which I had nothing
to say against:

except that I frequently caught cold by sitting on the damp grass,
or from exposure
to the evening dew,
or some insidious draught,
which seemed
to have no injurious effect on them.

It was quite right that they should be hardy;
yet,
surely,
they might have been taught some consideration
for others who were less so.

But I must not blame them
for what was,
perhaps,
my own fault;

for I never made any particular objections
to sitting where they pleased;
foolishly choosing
to risk the consequences,
rather than trouble them
for my convenience.

Their indecorous manner of doing their lessons was quite as remarkable as the caprice displayed in their choice of time and place.

While receiving my instructions,
or repeating what they had learned,
they would lounge upon the sofa,
lie on the rug,
stretch,
yawn,
talk
to each other,
or look out of the window;
whereas,
I could not so much as stir the fire,
or pick up the handkerchief I had dropped,
without being rebuked
for inattention by one of my pupils,
or told that 'mamma would not like me
to be so careless.'
The servants,
seeing in what little estimation the governess was held by both parents and children,
regulated their behaviour by the same standard.

I have frequently stood up
for them,
at the risk of some injury
to myself,
against the tyranny and injustice of their young masters and mistresses;
and I always endeavoured
to give them as little trouble as possible:

but they entirely neglected my comfort,
despised my requests,
and slighted my directions.

All servants,
I am convinced,
would not have done so;
but domestics in general,
being ignorant and little accustomed
to reason and reflection,
are too easily corrupted by the carelessness and bad example of those above them;
and these,
I think,
were not of the best order
to begin with.I sometimes felt myself degraded by the life I led,
and ashamed of submitting
to so many indignities;
and sometimes I thought myself a fool
for caring so much about them,
and feared I must be sadly wanting in Christian humility,
or that charity which 'suffereth long and is kind,
seeketh not her own,
is not easily provoked,
beareth all things,
endureth all things.'
But,

with time and patience,
matters began
to be slightly ameliorated:

slowly,
it is true,
and almost imperceptibly;
but I got rid of my male pupils (that was no trifling advantage),
and the girls,
as I intimated before concerning one of them,
became a little less insolent,
and began
to show some symptoms of esteem.

'Miss Grey was a queer creature:

she never flattered,
and did not praise them half enough;
but whenever she did speak favourably of them,
or anything belonging
to them,
they could be quite sure her approbation was sincere.

She was very obliging,
quiet,
and peaceable in the main,
but there were some things that put her out of temper:

they did not much care
for that,

to be sure,
but still it was better
to keep her in tune;
as when she was in a good humour she would talk
to them,
and be very agreeable and amusing sometimes,
in her way;
which was quite different
to mamma's,
but still very well
for a change.

She had her own opinions on every subject,
and kept steadily
to them - very tiresome opinions they often were;
as she was always thinking of what was right and what was wrong,
and had a strange reverence
for matters connected
with religion,
and an unaccountable liking
to good people.'
CHAPTER VIII - THE 'COMING OUT'
AT eighteen,
Miss Murray was
to emerge from the quiet obscurity of the schoolroom in
to the full blaze of the fashionable world - as much of it,
at least,
as could be had out of London;

for her papa could not be persuaded
to leave his rural pleasures and pursuits,
even
for a few weeks' residence in town.

She was
to make her debut on the third of January,
at a magnificent ball,
which her mamma proposed
to give
to all the nobility and choice gentry of O- and its neighbourhood
for twenty miles round.

Of course,
she looked forward
to it
with the wildest impatience,
and the most extravagant anticipations of delight.'Miss Grey,' said she,
one evening,
a month before the all- important day,
as I was perusing a long and extremely interesting letter of my sister's - which I had just glanced at in the morning
to see that it contained no very bad news,
and kept till now,
unable before
to find a quiet moment
for reading it,
- 'Miss Grey,
do put away that dull,
stupid letter,
and listen
to me!

I'm sure my talk must be far more amusing than that.'
She seated herself on the low stool at my feet;
and I,
suppressing a sigh of vexation,
began
to fold up the epistle.'You should tell the good people at home not
to bore you
with such long letters,' said she;
'and,
above all,
do bid them write on proper note-paper,
and not on those great vulgar sheets.

You should see the charming little lady-like notes mamma writes
to her friends.'
'The good people at home,' replied I,
'know very well that the longer their letters are,
the better I like them.

I should be very sorry
to receive a charming little lady-like note from any of them;
and I thought you were too much of a lady yourself,
Miss Murray,

to talk about the "vulgarity" of writing on a large sheet of paper.'
'Well,
I only said it
to tease you.

But now I want
to talk about the ball;
and
to tell you that you positively must put off your holidays till it is over.'
'Why so?

- I shall not be present at the ball.'
'No,
but you will see the rooms decked out before it begins,
and hear the music,
and,
above all,
see me in my splendid new dress.

I shall be so charming,
you'll be ready
to worship me - you really must stay.'
'I should like
to see you very much;
but I shall have many opportunities of seeing you equally charming,
on the occasion of some of the numberless balls and parties that are
to be,
and I cannot disappoint my friends by postponing my return so long.'
'Oh,
never mind your friends!

Tell them we won't let you go.'
'But,

to say the truth,
it would be a disappointment
to myself:

I long
to see them as much as they
to see me - perhaps more.'
'Well,
but it is such a short time.'
'Nearly a fortnight by my computation;
and,
besides,
I cannot bear the thoughts of a Christmas spent from home:

and,
moreover,
my sister is going
to be married.'
'Is she - when?'
'Not till next month;
but I want
to be there
to assist her in making preparations,
and
to make the best of her company while we have her.'
'Why didn't you tell me before?'
'I've only got the news in this letter,
which you stigmatize as dull and stupid,
and won't let me read.'
'
to whom is she
to be married?'
'
to Mr. Richardson,
the vicar of a neighbouring parish.'
'Is he rich?'
'No;
only comfortable.'
'Is he handsome?'
'No;
only decent.'
'Young?'
'No;
only middling.'
'Oh,
mercy!

what a wretch!

What sort of a house is it?'
'A quiet little vicarage,

with an ivy-clad porch,
an old-fashioned garden,
and - '
'Oh,
stop!

- you'll make me sick.

How CAN she bear it?'
'I expect she'll not only be able
to bear it,
but
to be very happy.

You did not ask me if Mr. Richardson were a good,
wise,
or amiable man;
I could have answered Yes,

to all these questions - at least so Mary thinks,
and I hope she will not find herself mistaken.'
'But - miserable creature!

how can she think of spending her life there,
cooped up
with that nasty old man;
and no hope of change?'
'He is not old:

he's only six or seven and thirty;
and she herself is twenty-eight,
and as sober as if she were fifty.'
'Oh!

that's better then - they're well matched;
but do they call him the "worthy vicar"?'
'I don't know;
but if they do,
I believe he merits the epithet.'
'Mercy,
how shocking!

and will she wear a white apron and make pies and puddings?'
'I don't know about the white apron,
but I dare say she will make pies and puddings now and then;
but that will be no great hardship,
as she has done it before.'
'And will she go about in a plain shawl,
and a large straw bonnet,
carrying tracts and bone soup
to her husband's poor parishioners?'
'I'm not clear about that;
but I dare say she will do her best
to make them comfortable in body and mind,
in accordance
with our mother's example.'
CHAPTER IX - THE BALL
'NOW,
Miss Grey,' exclaimed Miss Murray,
immediately I entered the schoolroom,
after having taken off my outdoor garments,
upon returning from my four weeks' recreation,
'Now - shut the door,
and sit down,
and I'll tell you all about the ball.'
'No - damn it,
no!' shouted Miss Matilda.

'Hold your tongue,
can't ye?

and let me tell her about my new mare - SUCH a splendour,
Miss Grey!

a fine blood mare - '
'Do be quiet,
Matilda;
and let me tell my news first.'
'No,
no,
Rosalie;
you'll be such a damned long time over it - she shall hear me first - I'll be hanged if she doesn't!'
'I'm sorry
to hear,
Miss Matilda,
that you've not got rid of that shocking habit yet.'
'Well,
I can't help it:

but I'll never say a wicked word again,
if you'll only listen
to me,
and tell Rosalie
to hold her confounded tongue.'
Rosalie remonstrated,
and I thought I should have been torn in pieces between them;
but Miss Matilda having the loudest voice,
her sister at length gave in,
and suffered her
to tell her story first:

so I was doomed
to hear a long account of her splendid mare,
its breeding and pedigree,
its paces,
its action,
its spirit,
&c.,
and of her own amazing skill and courage in riding it;
concluding
with an assertion that she could clear a five-barred gate 'like winking,' that papa said she might hunt the next time the hounds met,
and mamma had ordered a bright scarlet hunting-habit
for her.'Oh,
Matilda!

what stories you are telling!' exclaimed her sister.'Well,' answered she,
no whit abashed,
'I know I COULD clear a five-barred gate,
if I tried,
and papa WILL say I may hunt,
and mamma WILL order the habit when I ask it.'
'Well,
now get along,' replied Miss Murray;
'and do,
dear Matilda,
try
to be a little more lady-like.

Miss Grey,
I wish you would tell her not
to use such shocking words;
she will call her horse a mare:

it is so inconceivably shocking!

and then she uses such dreadful expressions in describing it:

she must have learned it from the grooMs. It nearly puts me in
to fits when she begins.'
'I learned it from papa,
you ass!

and his jolly friends,' said the young lady,
vigorously cracking a hunting-whip,
which she habitually carried in her hand.

'I'm as good judge of horseflesh as the best of 'm.'
'Well,
now get along,
you shocking girl!

I really shall take a fit if you go on in such a way.

And now,
Miss Grey,
attend
to me;
I'm going
to tell you about the ball.

You must be dying
to hear about it,
I know.

Oh,
SUCH a ball!

You never saw or heard,
or read,
or dreamt of anything like it in all your life.

The decorations,
the entertainment,
the supper,
the music were indescribable!

and then the guests!

There were two noblemen,
three baronets,
and five titled ladies,
and other ladies and gentlemen innumerable.

The ladies,
of course,
were of no consequence
to me,
except
to put me in a good humour
with myself,
by showing how ugly and awkward most of them were;
and the best,
mamma told me,
- the most transcendent beauties among them,
were nothing
to me.

As
for me,
Miss Grey - I'm so SORRY you didn't see me!

I was CHARMING - wasn't I,
Matilda?'
'Middling.'
'No,
but I really was - at least so mamma said - and Brown and Williamson.

Brown said she was sure no gentleman could set eyes on me without falling in love that minute;
and so I may be allowed
to be a little vain.

I know you think me a shocking,
conceited,
frivolous girl;
but then,
you know,
I don't attribute it ALL
to my personal attractions:

I give some praise
to the hairdresser,
and some
to my exquisitely lovely dress - you must see it to-morrow - white gauze over pink satin - and so SWEETLY made!

and a necklace and bracelet of beautiful,
large pearls!'
'I have no doubt you looked very charming:

but should that delight you so very much?'
'Oh,
no!

- not that alone:

but,
then,
I was so much admired;
and I made so MANY conquests in that one night - you'd be astonished
to hear - '
'But what good will they do you?'
'What good!

Think of any woman asking that!'
'Well,
I should think one conquest would be enough;
and too much,
unless the subjugation were mutual.'
'Oh,
but you know I never agree
with you on those points.

Now,
wait a bit,
and I'll tell you my principal admirers - those who made themselves very conspicuous that night and after:


for I've been
to two parties since.

Unfortunately the two noblemen,
Lord G- and Lord F-,
were married,
or I might have condescended
to be particularly gracious
to THEM;
as it was,
I did not:

though Lord F-,
who hates his wife,
was evidently much struck
with me.

He asked me
to dance
with him twice - he is a charming dancer,
by-the- by,
and so am I:

you can't think how well I did - I was astonished at myself.

My lord was very complimentary too - rather too much so in fact - and I thought proper
to be a little haughty and repellent;
but I had the pleasure of seeing his nasty,
cross wife ready
to perish
with spite and vexation - '
'Oh,
Miss Murray!

you don't mean
to say that such a thing could really give you pleasure?

However cross or - '
'Well,
I know it's very wrong;
- but never mind!

I mean
to be good some time - only don't preach now,
there's a good creature.

I haven't told you half yet.

Let me see.

Oh!

I was going
to tell you how many unmistakeable admirers I had:- Sir Thomas Ashby was one,
- Sir Hugh Meltham and Sir Broadley Wilson are old codgers,
only fit companions
for papa and mamma.

Sir Thomas is young,
rich,
and gay;
but an ugly beast,
nevertheless:

however,
mamma says I should not mind that after a few months' acquaintance.

Then,
there was Henry Meltham,
Sir Hugh's younger son;
rather good-looking,
and a pleasant fellow
to flirt with:

but BEING a younger son,
that is all he is good for;
then there was young Mr. Green,
rich enough,
but of no family,
and a great stupid fellow,
a mere country booby!

and then,
our good rector,
Mr. Hatfield:

an HUMBLE admirer he ought
to consider himself;
but I fear he has forgotten
to number humility among his stock of Christian virtues.'
'Was Mr. Hatfield at the ball?'
'Yes,

to he sure.

Did you think he was too good
to go?'
'I thought be might consider it unclerical.'
'By no means.

He did not profane his cloth by dancing;
but it was
with difficulty he could refrain,
poor man:

he looked as if he were dying
to ask my hand just
for ONE set;
and - oh!

by-the-by - he's got a new curate:

that seedy old fellow Mr. Bligh has got his long-wished-
for living at last,
and is gone.'
'And what is the new one like?'
'Oh,
SUCH a beast!

Weston his name is.

I can give you his description in three words - an insensate,
ugly,
stupid blockhead.

That's four,
but no matter - enough of HIM now.'
Then she returned
to the ball,
and gave me a further account of her deportment there,
and at the several parties she had since attended;
and further particulars respecting Sir Thomas Ashby and Messrs.

Meltham,
Green,
and Hatfield,
and the ineffaceable impression she had wrought upon each of them.'Well,
which of the four do you like best?' said I,
suppressing my third or fourth yawn.'I detest them all!' replied she,
shaking her bright ringlets in vivacious scorn.'That means,
I suppose,
"I like them all" - but which most?'
'No,
I really detest them all;
but Harry Meltham is the handsomest and most amusing,
and Mr. Hatfield the cleverest,
Sir Thomas the wickedest,
and Mr. Green the most stupid.

But the one I'm
to have,
I suppose,
if I'm doomed
to have any of them,
is Sir Thomas Ashby.'
'Surely not,
if he's so wicked,
and if you dislike him?'
'Oh,
I don't mind his being wicked:

he's all the better
for that;
and as
for disliking him - I shouldn't greatly object
to being Lady Ashby of Ashby Park,
if I must marry.

But if I could be always young,
I would be always single.

I should like
to enjoy myself thoroughly,
and coquet
with all the world,
till I am on the verge of being called an old maid;
and then,

to escape the infamy of that,
after having made ten thousand conquests,

to break all their hearts save one,
by marrying some high-born,
rich,
indulgent husband,
whom,
on the other hand,
fifty ladies were dying
to have.'
'Well,
as long as you entertain these views,
keep single by all means,
and never marry at all:

not even
to escape the infamy of old-maidenhood.'
CHAPTER X - THE CHURCH
'WELL,
Miss Grey,
what do you think of the new curate?' asked Miss Murray,
on our return from church the Sunday after the recommencement of our duties.'I can scarcely tell,' was my reply:

'I have not even heard him preach.'
'Well,
but you saw him,
didn't you?'
'Yes,
but I cannot pretend
to judge of a man's character by a single cursory glance at his face.'
'But isn't he ugly?'
'He did not strike me as being particularly so;
I don't dislike that cast of countenance:

but the only thing I particularly noticed about him was his style of reading;
which appeared
to me good - infinitely better,
at least,
than Mr. Hatfield's.

He read the Lessons as if he were bent on giving full effect
to every passage;
it seemed as if the most careless person could not have helped attending,
nor the most ignorant have failed
to understand;
and the prayers he read as if he were not reading at all,
but praying earnestly and sincerely from his own heart.'
'Oh,
yes,
that's all he is good for:

he can plod through the service well enough;
but he has not a single idea beyond it.'
'How do you know?'
'Oh!

I know perfectly well;
I am an excellent judge in such matters.

Did you see how he went out of church?

stumping along - as if there were nobody there but himself - never looking
to the right hand or the left,
and evidently thinking of nothing but just getting out of the church,
and,
perhaps,
home
to his dinner:

his great stupid head could contain no other idea.'
'I suppose you would have had him cast a glance in
to the squire's pew,' said I,
laughing at the vehemence of her hostility.'Indeed!

I should have been highly indignant if he had dared
to do such a thing!' replied she,
haughtily tossing her head;
then,
after a moment's reflection,
she added - 'Well,
well!

I suppose he's good enough
for his place:

but I'm glad I'm not dependent on HIM
for amusement - that's all.

Did you see how Mr. Hatfield hurried out
to get a bow from me,
and be in time
to put us in
to the carriage?'
'Yes,' answered I;
internally adding,
'and I thought it somewhat derogatory
to his dignity as a clergyman
to come flying from the pulpit in such eager haste
to shake hands
with the squire,
and hand his wife and daughters in
to their carriage:

and,
moreover,
I owe him a grudge
for nearly shutting me out of it';
for,
in fact,
though I was standing before his face,
close beside the carriage steps,
waiting
to get in,
he would persist in putting them up and closing the door,
till one of the family stopped him by calling out that the governess was not in yet;
then,
without a word of apology,
he departed,
wishing them good-morning,
and leaving the footman
to finish the business.NOTA BENE.

- Mr. Hatfield never spoke
to me,
neither did Sir Hugh or Lady Meltham,
nor Mr. Harry or Miss Meltham,
nor Mr. Green or his sisters,
nor any other lady or gentleman who frequented that church:

nor,
in fact,
any one that visited at Horton Lodge.Miss Murray ordered the carriage again,
in the afternoon,

for herself and her sister:

she said it was too cold
for them
to enjoy themselves in the garden;
and besides,
she believed Harry Meltham would be at church.

'For,' said she,
smiling slyly at her own fair image in the glass,
'he has been a most exemplary attendant at church these last few Sundays:

you would think he was quite a good Christian.

And you may go
with us,
Miss Grey:

I want you
to see him;
he is so greatly improved since he returned from abroad - you can't think!

And besides,
then you will have an opportunity of seeing the beautiful Mr. Weston again,
and of hearing him preach.'
I did hear him preach,
and was decidedly pleased
with the evangelical truth of his doctrine,
as well as the earnest simplicity of his manner,
and the clearness and force of his style.

It was truly refreshing
to hear such a sermon,
after being so long accustomed
to the dry,
prosy discourses of the former curate,
and the still less edifying harangues of the rector.

Mr. Hatfield would come sailing up the aisle,
or rather sweeping along like a whirlwind,

with his rich silk gown flying behind him and rustling against the pew doors,
mount the pulpit like a conqueror ascending his triumphal car;
then,
sinking on the velvet cushion in an attitude of studied grace,
remain in silent prostration
for a certain time;
then mutter over a Collect,
and gabble through the Lord's Prayer,
rise,
draw off one bright lavender glove,

to give the congregation the benefit of his sparkling rings,
lightly pass his fingers through his well-curled hair,
flourish a cambric handkerchief,
recite a very short passage,
or,
perhaps,
a mere phrase of Scripture,
as a head-piece
to his discourse,
and,
finally,
deliver a composition which,
as a composition,
might be considered good,
though far too studied and too artificial
to be pleasing
to me:

the propositions were well laid down,
the arguments logically conducted;
and yet,
it was sometimes hard
to listen quietly throughout,
without some slight demonstrations of disapproval or impatience.His favourite subjects were church discipline,
rites and ceremonies,
apostolical succession,
the duty of reverence and obedience
to the clergy,
the atrocious criminality of dissent,
the absolute necessity of observing all the forms of godliness,
the reprehensible presumption of individuals who attempted
to think
for themselves in matters connected
with religion,
or
to be guided by their own interpretations of Scripture,
and,
occasionally (
to please his wealthy parishioners) the necessity of deferential obedience from the poor
to the rich - supporting his maxims and exhortations throughout
with quotations from the Fathers:


with whom he appeared
to be far better acquainted than
with the Apostles and Evangelists,
and whose importance he seemed
to consider at least equal
to theirs.

But now and then he gave us a sermon of a different order - what some would call a very good one;
but sunless and severe:

representing the Deity as a terrible taskmaster rather than a benevolent father.

Yet,
as I listened,
I felt inclined
to think the man was sincere in all he said:

he must have changed his views,
and become decidedly religious,
gloomy and austere,
yet still devout.

But such illusions were usually dissipated,
on coming out of church,
by hearing his voice in jocund colloquy
with some of the Melthams or Greens,
or,
perhaps,
the Murrays themselves;
probably laughing at his own sermon,
and hoping that he had given the rascally people something
to think about;
perchance,
exulting in the thought that old Betty Holmes would now lay aside the sinful indulgence of her pipe,
which had been her daily solace
for upwards of thirty years:

that George Higgins would be frightened out of his Sabbath evening walks,
and Thomas Jackson would be sorely troubled in his conscience,
and shaken in his sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection at the last day.Thus,
I could not but conclude that Mr. Hatfield was one of those who 'bind heavy burdens,
and grievous
to be borne,
and lay them upon men's shoulders,
while they themselves will not move them
with one of their fingers';
and who 'make the word of God of none effect by their traditions,
teaching
for doctrines the commandments of men.' I was well pleased
to observe that the new curate resembled him,
as far as I could see,
in none of these particulars.'Well,
Miss Grey,
what do you think of him now?' said Miss Murray,
as we took our places in the carriage after service.'No harm still,' replied I.'No harm!' repeated she in amazement.

'What do you mean?'
'I mean,
I think no worse of him than I did before.'
'No worse!

I should think not indeed - quite the contrary!

Is he not greatly improved?'
'Oh,
yes;
very much indeed,' replied I;

for I had now discovered that it was Harry Meltham she meant,
not Mr. Weston.

That gentleman had eagerly come forward
to speak
to the young ladies:

a thing he would hardly have ventured
to do had their mother been present;
he had likewise politely handed them in
to the carriage.

He had not attempted
to shut me out,
like Mr. Hatfield;
neither,
of course,
had he offered me his assistance (I should not have accepted it,
if he had),
but as long as the door remained open he had stood smirking and chatting
with them,
and then lifted his hat and departed
to his own abode:

but I had scarcely noticed him all the time.

My companions,
however,
had been more observant;
and,
as we rolled along,
they discussed between them not only his looks,
words,
and actions,
but every feature of his face,
and every article of his apparel.'You shan't have him all
to yourself,
Rosalie,' said Miss Matilda at the close of this discussion;
'I like him:

I know he'd make a nice,
jolly companion
for me.'
'Well,
you're quite welcome
to him,
Matilda,' replied her sister,
in a tone of affected indifference.'And I'm sure,' continued the other,
'he admires me quite as much as he does you;
doesn't he,
Miss Grey?'
'I don't know;
I'm not acquainted
with his sentiments.'
'Well,
but he DOES though.'
'My DEAR Matilda!

nobody will ever admire you till you get rid of your rough,
awkward manners.'
'Oh,
stuff!

Harry Meltham likes such manners;
and so do papa's friends.'
'Well,
you MAY captivate old men,
and younger sons;
but nobody else,
I am sure,
will ever take a fancy
to you.'
'I don't care:

I'm not always grabbing after money,
like you and mamma.

If my husband is able
to keep a few good horses and dogs,
I shall be quite satisfied;
and all the rest may go
to the devil!'
'Well,
if you use such shocking expressions,
I'm sure no real gentleman will ever venture
to come near you.

Really,
Miss Grey,
you should not let her do so.'
'I can't possibly prevent it,
Miss Murray.'
'And you're quite mistaken,
Matilda,
in supposing that Harry Meltham admires you:

I assure you he does nothing of the kind.'
Matilda was beginning an angry reply;
but,
happily,
our journey was now at an end;
and the contention was cut short by the footman opening the carriage-door,
and letting down the steps
for our descent.


CHAPTER XI - THE COTTAGERS
AS I had now only one regular pupil - though she contrived
to give me as much trouble as three or four ordinary ones,
and though her sister still took lessons in German and drawing - I had considerably more time at my own disposal than I had ever been blessed
with before,
since I had taken upon me the governess's yoke;
which time I devoted partly
to correspondence
with my friends,
partly
to reading,
study,
and the practice of music,
singing,
&c.,
partly
to wandering in the grounds or adjacent fields,

with my pupils if they wanted me,
alone if they did not.Often,
when they had no more agreeable occupation at hand,
the Misses Murray would amuse themselves
with visiting the poor cottagers on their father's estate,

to receive their flattering homage,
or
to hear the old stories or gossiping news of the garrulous old women;
or,
perhaps,

to enjoy the purer pleasure of making the poor people happy
with their cheering presence and their occasional gifts,
so easily bestowed,
so thankfully received.

Sometimes,
I was called upon
to accompany one or both of the sisters in these visits;
and sometimes I was desired
to go alone,

to fulfil some promise which they had been more ready
to make than
to perform;

to carry some small donation,
or read
to one who was sick or seriously disposed:

and thus I made a few acquaintances among the cottagers;
and,
occasionally,
I went
to see them on my own account.I generally had more satisfaction in going alone than
with either of the young ladies;

for they,
chiefly owing
to their defective education,
comported themselves towards their inferiors in a manner that was highly disagreeable
for me
to witness.

They never,
in thought,
exchanged places
with them;
and,
consequently,
had no consideration
for their feelings,
regarding them as an order of beings entirely different from themselves.

They would watch the poor creatures at their meals,
making uncivil remarks about their food,
and their manner of eating;
they would laugh at their simple notions and provincial expressions,
till some of them scarcely durst venture
to speak;
they would call the grave elderly men and women old fools and silly old blockheads
to their faces:

and all this without meaning
to offend.

I could see that the people were often hurt and annoyed by such conduct,
though their fear of the 'grand ladies' prevented them from testifying any resentment;
but THEY never perceived it.

They thought that,
as these cottagers were poor and untaught,
they must be stupid and brutish;
and as long as they,
their superiors,
condescended
to talk
to them,
and
to give them shillings and half-crowns,
or articles of clothing,
they had a right
to amuse themselves,
even at their expense;
and the people must adore them as angels of light,
condescending
to minister
to their necessities,
and enlighten their humble dwellings.I made many and various attempts
to deliver my pupils from these delusive notions without alarming their pride - which was easily offended,
and not soon appeased - but
with little apparent result;
and I know not which was the more reprehensible of the two:

Matilda was more rude and boisterous;
but from Rosalie's womanly age and lady-like exterior better things were expected:

yet she was as provokingly careless and inconsiderate as a giddy child of twelve.One bright day in the last week of February,
I was walking in the park,
enjoying the threefold luxury of solitude,
a book,
and pleasant weather;

for Miss Matilda had set out on her daily ride,
and Miss Murray was gone in the carriage
with her mamma
to pay some morning calls.

But it struck me that I ought
to leave these selfish pleasures,
and the park
with its glorious canopy of bright blue sky,
the west wind sounding through its yet leafless branches,
the snow-wreaths still lingering in its hollows,
but melting fast beneath the sun,
and the graceful deer browsing on its moist herbage already assuming the freshness and verdure of spring - and go
to the cottage of one Nancy Brown,
a widow,
whose son was at work all day in the fields,
and who was afflicted
with an inflammation in the eyes;
which had
for some time incapacitated her from reading:


to her own great grief,

for she was a woman of a serious,
thoughtful turn of mind.

I accordingly went,
and found her alone,
as usual,
in her little,
close,
dark cottage,
redolent of smoke and confined air,
but as tidy and clean as she could make it.

She was seated beside her little fire (consisting of a few red cinders and a bit of stick),
busily knitting,

with a small sackcloth cushion at her feet,
placed
for the accommodation of her gentle friend the cat,
who was seated thereon,

with her long tail half encircling her velvet paws,
and her half-closed eyes dreamily gazing on the low,
crooked fender.'Well,
Nancy,
how are you to-day?'
'Why,
middling,
Miss,
i' myseln - my eyes is no better,
but I'm a deal easier i' my mind nor I have been,' replied she,
rising
to welcome me
with a contented smile;
which I was glad
to see,

for Nancy had been somewhat afflicted
with religious melancholy.

I congratulated her upon the change.

She agreed that it was a great blessing,
and expressed herself 'right down thankful
for it';
adding,
'If it please God
to spare my sight,
and make me so as I can read my Bible again,
I think I shall be as happy as a queen.'
'I hope He will,
Nancy,' replied I;
'and,
meantime,
I'll come and read
to you now and then,
when I have a little time
to spare.'

with expressions of grateful pleasure,
the poor woman moved
to get me a chair;
but,
as I saved her the trouble,
she busied herself
with stirring the fire,
and adding a few more sticks
to the decaying embers;
and then,
taking her well-used Bible from the shelf,
dusted it carefully,
and gave it me.

On my asking if there was any particular part she should like me
to read,
she answered -
'Well,
Miss Grey,
if it's all the same
to you,
I should like
to hear that chapter in the First Epistle of St.

John,
that says,
"God is love,
and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God,
and God in him."

'

with a little searching,
I found these words in the fourth chapter.

When I came
to the seventh verse she interrupted me,
and,

with needless apologies
for such a liberty,
desired me
to read it very slowly,
that she might take it all in,
and dwell on every word;
hoping I would excuse her,
as she was but a 'simple body.'
'The wisest person,' I replied,
'might think over each of these verses
for an hour,
and be all the better
for it;
and I would rather read them slowly than not.'
Accordingly,
I finished the chapter as slowly as need be,
and at the same time as impressively as I could;
my auditor listened most attentively all the while,
and sincerely thanked me when I had done.

I sat still about half a minute
to give her time
to reflect upon it;
when,
somewhat
to my surprise,
she broke the pause by asking me how I liked Mr. Weston?
'I don't know,' I replied,
a little startled by the suddenness of the question;
'I think he preaches very well.'
'Ay,
he does so;
and talks well too.'
'Does he?'
'He does.

Maybe,
you haven't seen him - not
to talk
to him much,
yet?'
'No,
I never see any one
to talk
to - except the young ladies of the Hall.'
'Ah;
they're nice,
kind young ladies;
but they can't talk as he does.'
'Then he comes
to see you,
Nancy?'
'He does,
Miss;
and I'se thankful
for it.

He comes
to see all us poor bodies a deal ofter nor Maister Bligh,
or th' Rector ever did;
an' it's well he does,

for he's always welcome:

we can't say as much
for th' Rector - there is 'at says they're fair feared on him.

When he comes in
to a house,
they say he's sure
to find summut wrong,
and begin a-calling 'em as soon as he crosses th' doorstuns:

but maybe he thinks it his duty like
to tell 'em what's wrong.

And very oft he comes o' purpose
to reprove folk
for not coming
to church,
or not kneeling an' standing when other folk does,
or going
to the Methody chapel,
or summut o' that sort:

but I can't say 'at he ever fund much fault wi' me.

He came
to see me once or twice,
afore Maister Weston come,
when I was so ill troubled in my mind;
and as I had only very poor health besides,
I made bold
to send
for him - and he came right enough.

I was sore distressed,
Miss Grey - thank God,
it's owered now - but when I took my Bible,
I could get no comfort of it at all.

That very chapter 'at you've just been reading troubled me as much as aught - "He that loveth not,
knoweth not God."

It seemed fearsome
to me;

for I felt that I loved neither God nor man as I should do,
and could not,
if I tried ever so.

And th' chapter afore,
where it says,
- "He that is born of God cannot commit sin."

And another place where it says,
- "Love is the fulfilling of the Law."

And many,
many others,
Miss:

I should fair weary you out,
if I was
to tell them all.

But all seemed
to condemn me,
and
to show me 'at I was not in the right way;
and as I knew not how
to get in
to it,
I sent our Bill
to beg Maister Hatfield
to be as kind as look in on me some day and when he came,
I telled him all my troubles.'
'And what did he say,
Nancy?'
'Why,
Miss,
he seemed
to scorn me.

I might be mista'en - but he like gave a sort of a whistle,
and I saw a bit of a smile on his face;
and he said,
"Oh,
it's all stuff!

You've been among the Methodists,
my good woman."

But I telled him I'd never been near the Methodies.

And then he said,
- "Well," says he,
"you must come
to church,
where you'll hear the Scriptures properly explained,
instead of sitting poring over your Bible at home."


'But I telled him I always used coming
to church when I had my health;
but this very cold winter weather I hardly durst venture so far - and me so bad wi' th' rheumatic and all.'But he says,
"It'll do your rheumatiz good
to hobble
to church:

there's nothing like exercise
for the rheumatiz.

You can walk about the house well enough;
why can't you walk
to church?

The fact is," says he,
"you're getting too fond of your ease.

It's always easy
to find excuses
for shirking one's duty."


'But then,
you know,
Miss Grey,
it wasn't so.

However,
I telled him I'd try.

"But please,
sir," says I,
"if I do go
to church,
what the better shall I be?

I want
to have my sins blotted out,
and
to feel that they are remembered no more against me,
and that the love of God is shed abroad in my heart;
and if I can get no good by reading my Bible an' saying my prayers at home,
what good shall I get by going
to church?'
'"The church," says he,
"is the place appointed by God
for His worship.

It's your duty
to go there as often as you can.

If you want comfort,
you must seek it in the path of duty," - an' a deal more he said,
but I cannot remember all his fine words.

However,
it all came
to this,
that I was
to come
to church as oft as ever I could,
and bring my prayer-book
with me,
an' read up all the sponsers after the clerk,
an' stand,
an' kneel,
an' sit,
an' do all as I should,
and take the Lord's Supper at every opportunity,
an' hearken his sermons,
and Maister Bligh's,
an' it 'ud be all right:

if I went on doing my duty,
I should get a blessing at last.'"But if you get no comfort that way," says he,
"it's all up."


'"Then,
sir," says I,
"should you think I'm a reprobate?"


'"Why," says he - he says,
"if you do your best
to get
to heaven and can't manage it,
you must be one of those that seek
to enter in at the strait gate and shall not be able."


'An' then he asked me if I'd seen any of the ladies o' th' Hall about that mornin';
so I telled him where I had seen the young misses go on th' Moss Lane;
- an' he kicked my poor cat right across th' floor,
an' went after 'em as gay as a lark:

but I was very sad.

That last word o' his fair sunk in
to my heart,
an' lay there like a lump o' lead,
till I was weary
to bear it.'Howsever,
I follered his advice:

I thought he meant it all
for th' best,
though he HAD a queer way
with him.

But you know,
Miss,
he's rich an' young,
and such like cannot right understand the thoughts of a poor old woman such as me.

But,
howsever,
I did my best
to do all as he bade me - but maybe I'm plaguing you,
Miss,
wi' my chatter.'
'Oh,
no,
Nancy!

Go on,
and tell me all.'
'Well,
my rheumatiz got better - I know not whether wi' going
to church or not,
but one frosty Sunday I got this cold i' my eyes.

Th' inflammation didn't come on all at once like,
but bit by bit - but I wasn't going
to tell you about my eyes,
I was talking about my trouble o' mind;
- and
to tell the truth,
Miss Grey,
I don't think it was anyways eased by coming
to church - nought
to speak on,
at least:

I like got my health better;
but that didn't mend my soul.

I hearkened and hearkened the ministers,
and read an' read at my prayer-book;
but it was all like sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal:

the sermons I couldn't understand,
an' th' prayer-book only served
to show me how wicked I was,
that I could read such good words an' never be no better
for it,
and oftens feel it a sore labour an' a heavy task beside,
instead of a blessing and a privilege as all good Christians does.

It seemed like as all were barren an' dark
to me.

And then,
them dreadful words,
"Many shall seek
to enter in,
and shall not be able."

They like as they fair dried up my sperrit.'But one Sunday,
when Maister Hatfield gave out about the sacrament,
I noticed where he said,
"If there be any of you that cannot quiet his own conscience,
but requireth further comfort or counsel,
let him come
to me,
or some other discreet and learned minister of God's word,
and open his grief!" So next Sunday morning,
afore service,
I just looked in
to the vestry,
an' began a- talking
to th' Rector again.

I hardly could fashion
to take such a liberty,
but I thought when my soul was at stake I shouldn't stick at a trifle.

But he said he hadn't time
to attend
to me then.'"And,
indeed," says he,
"I've nothing
to say
to you but what I've said before.

Take the sacrament,
of course,
and go on doing your duty;
and if that won't serve you,
nothing will.

So don't bother me any more."


'So then,
I went away.

But I heard Maister Weston - Maister Weston was there,
Miss - this was his first Sunday at Horton,
you know,
an' he was i' th' vestry in his surplice,
helping th' Rector on
with his gown - '
'Yes,
Nancy.'
'And I heard him ask Maister Hatfield who I was,
an' he says,
"Oh,
she's a canting old fool."


'And I was very ill grieved,
Miss Grey;
but I went
to my seat,
and I tried
to do my duty as aforetime:

but I like got no peace.

An' I even took the sacrament;
but I felt as though I were eating and drinking
to my own damnation all th' time.

So I went home,
sorely troubled.'But next day,
afore I'd gotten fettled up -
for indeed,
Miss,
I'd no heart
to sweeping an' fettling,
an' washing pots;
so I sat me down i' th' muck - who should come in but Maister Weston!

I started siding stuff then,
an' sweeping an' doing;
and I expected he'd begin a-calling me
for my idle ways,
as Maister Hatfield would a' done;
but I was mista'en:

he only bid me good-mornin' like,
in a quiet dacent way.

So I dusted him a chair,
an' fettled up th' fireplace a bit;
but I hadn't forgotten th' Rector's words,
so says I,
"I wonder,
sir,
you should give yourself that trouble,

to come so far
to see a 'canting old fool,' such as me."


'He seemed taken aback at that;
but he would fain persuade me 'at the Rector was only in jest;
and when that wouldn't do,
he says,
"Well,
Nancy,
you shouldn't think so much about it:

Mr. Hatfield was a little out of humour just then:

you know we're none of us perfect - even Moses spoke unadvisedly
with his lips.

But now sit down a minute,
if you can spare the time,
and tell me all your doubts and fears;
and I'll try
to remove them."


'So I sat me down anent him.

He was quite a stranger,
you know,
Miss Grey,
and even YOUNGER nor Maister Hatfield,
I believe;
and I had thought him not so pleasant-looking as him,
and rather a bit crossish,
at first,

to look at;
but he spake so civil like - and when th' cat,
poor thing,
jumped on
to his knee,
he only stroked her,
and gave a bit of a smile:

so I thought that was a good sign;

for once,
when she did so
to th' Rector,
he knocked her off,
like as it might be in scorn and anger,
poor thing.

But you can't expect a cat
to know manners like a Christian,
you know,
Miss Grey.'
'No;
of course not,
Nancy.

But what did Mr. Weston say then?'
'He said nought;
but he listened
to me as steady an' patient as could be,
an' never a bit o' scorn about him;
so I went on,
an' telled him all,
just as I've telled you - an' more too.'"Well," says he,
"Mr. Hatfield was quite right in telling you
to persevere in doing your duty;
but in advising you
to go
to church and attend
to the service,
and so on,
he didn't mean that was the whole of a Christian's duty:

he only thought you might there learn what more was
to be done,
and be led
to take delight in those exercises,
instead of finding them a task and a burden.

And if you had asked him
to explain those words that trouble you so much,
I think he would have told you,
that if many shall seek
to enter in at the strait gate and shall not be able,
it is their own sins that hinder them;
just as a man
with a large sack on his back might wish
to pass through a narrow doorway,
and find it impossible
to do so unless he would leave his sack behind him.

But you,
Nancy,
I dare say,
have no sins that you would not gladly throw aside,
if you knew how?"


'"Indeed,
sir,
you speak truth," said I.'"Well," says he,
"you know the first and great commandment - and the second,
which is like un
to it - on which two commandments hang all the law and the prophets?

You say you cannot love God;
but it strikes me that if you rightly consider who and what He is,
you cannot help it.

He is your father,
your best friend:

every blessing,
everything good,
pleasant,
or useful,
comes from Him;
and everything evil,
everything you have reason
to hate,

to shun,
or
to fear,
comes from Satan - HIS enemy as well as ours.

And
for THIS cause was God manifest in the flesh,
that He might destroy the works of the Devil:

in one word,
God is LOVE;
and the more of love we have within us,
the nearer we are
to Him and the more of His spirit we possess."


'"Well,
sir," I said,
"if I can always think on these things,
I think I might well love God:

but how can I love my neighbours,
when they vex me,
and be so contrary and sinful as some on 'em is?"


'"It may seem a hard matter," says he,
"
to love our neighbours,
who have so much of what is evil about them,
and whose faults so often awaken the evil that lingers within ourselves;
but remember that HE made them,
and HE loves them;
and whosoever loveth him that begat,
loveth him that is begotten also.

And if God so loveth us,
that He gave His only begotten Son
to die
for us,
we ought also
to love one another.

But if you cannot feel positive affection
for those who do not care
for you,
you can at least try
to do
to them as you would they should do un
to you:

you can endeavour
to pity their failings and excuse their offences,
and
to do all the good you can
to those about you.

And if you accustom yourself
to this,
Nancy,
the very effort itself will make you love them in some degree -
to say nothing of the goodwill your kindness would beget in them,
though they might have little else that is good about them.

If we love God and wish
to serve Him,
let us try
to be like Him,

to do His work,

to labour
for His glory - which is the good of man -
to hasten the coming of His kingdom,
which is the peace and happiness of all the world:

however powerless we may seem
to be,
in doing all the good we can through life,
the humblest of us may do much towards it:

and let us dwell in love,
that He may dwell in us and we in Him.

The more happiness we bestow,
the more we shall receive,
even here;
and the greater will be our reward in heaven when we rest from our labours."

I believe,
Miss,
them is his very words,

for I've thought 'em ower many a time.

An' then he took that Bible,
an' read bits here and there,
an' explained 'em as clear as the day:

and it seemed like as a new light broke in on my soul;
an' I felt fair aglow about my heart,
an' only wished poor Bill an' all the world could ha' been there,
an' heard it all,
and rejoiced wi' me.'After he was gone,
Hannah Rogers,
one o' th' neighbours,
came in and wanted me
to help her
to wash.

I telled her I couldn't just then,

for I hadn't set on th' potaties
for th' dinner,
nor washed up th' breakfast stuff yet.

So then she began a-calling me
for my nasty idle ways.

I was a little bit vexed at first,
but I never said nothing wrong
to her:

I only telled her like all in a quiet way,
'at I'd had th' new parson
to see me;
but I'd get done as quick as ever I could,
an' then come an' help her.

So then she softened down;
and my heart like as it warmed towards her,
an' in a bit we was very good friends.

An' so it is,
Miss Grey,
"a soft answer turneth away wrath;
but grievous words stir up anger."

It isn't only in them you speak to,
but in yourself.'
'Very true,
Nancy,
if we could always remember it.'
'Ay,
if we could!'
'And did Mr. Weston ever come
to see you again?'
'Yes,
many a time;
and since my eyes has been so bad,
he's sat an' read
to me by the half-hour together:

but you know,
Miss,
he has other folks
to see,
and other things
to do - God bless him!

An' that next Sunday he preached SUCH a sermon!

His text was,
"Come un
to me all ye that labour and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest," and them two blessed verses that follows.

You wasn't there,
Miss,
you was
with your friends then - but it made me SO happy!

And I AM happy now,
thank God!

an' I take a pleasure,
now,
in doing little bits o' jobs
for my neighbours - such as a poor old body 'at's half blind can do;
and they take it kindly of me,
just as he said.

You see,
Miss,
I'm knitting a pair o' stockings now;
- they're
for Thomas Jackson:

he's a queerish old body,
an' we've had many a bout at threaping,
one anent t'other;
an' at times we've differed sorely.

So I thought I couldn't do better nor knit him a pair o' warm stockings;
an' I've felt
to like him a deal better,
poor old man,
sin' I began.

It's turned out just as Maister Weston said.'
'Well,
I'm very glad
to see you so happy,
Nancy,
and so wise:

but I must go now;
I shall be wanted at the Hall,' said I;
and bidding her good-bye,
I departed,
promising
to come again when I had time,
and feeling nearly as happy as herself.At another time I went
to read
to a poor labourer who was in the last stage of consumption.

The young ladies had been
to see him,
and somehow a promise of reading had been extracted from them;
but it was too much trouble,
so they begged me
to do it instead.

I went,
willingly enough;
and there too I was gratified
with the praises of Mr. Weston,
both from the sick man and his wife.

The former told me that he derived great comfort and benefit from the visits of the new parson,
who frequently came
to see him,
and was 'another guess sort of man'
to Mr. Hatfield;
who,
before the other's arrival at Horton,
had now and then paid him a visit;
on which occasions he would always insist upon having the cottage-door kept open,

to admit the fresh air
for his own convenience,
without considering how it might injure the sufferer;
and having opened his prayer-book and hastily read over a part of the Service
for the Sick,
would hurry away again:

if he did not stay
to administer some harsh rebuke
to the afflicted wife,
or
to make some thoughtless,
not
to say heartless,
observation,
rather calculated
to increase than diminish the troubles of the suffering pair.'Whereas,' said the man,
'Maister Weston 'ull pray
with me quite in a different fashion,
an' talk
to me as kind as owt;
an' oft read
to me too,
an' sit beside me just like a brother.'
'Just
for all the world!' exclaimed his wife;
'an' about a three wik sin',
when he seed how poor Jem shivered wi' cold,
an' what pitiful fires we kept,
he axed if wer stock of coals was nearly done.

I telled him it was,
an' we was ill set
to get more:

but you know,
mum,
I didn't think o' him helping us;
but,
howsever,
he sent us a sack o' coals next day;
an' we've had good fires ever sin':

and a great blessing it is,
this winter time.

But that's his way,
Miss Grey:

when he comes in
to a poor body's house a- seein' sick folk,
he like notices what they most stand i' need on;
an' if he thinks they can't readily get it therseln,
he never says nowt about it,
but just gets it
for 'em.

An' it isn't everybody 'at 'ud do that,
'at has as little as he has:


for you know,
mum,
he's nowt at all
to live on but what he gets fra' th' Rector,
an' that's little enough they say.'
I remembered then,

with a species of exultation,
that he had frequently been styled a vulgar brute by the amiable Miss Murray,
because he wore a silver watch,
and clothes not quite so bright and fresh as Mr. Hatfield's.In returning
to the Lodge I felt very happy,
and thanked God that I had now something
to think about;
something
to dwell on as a relief from the weary monotony,
the lonely drudgery,
of my present life:


for I WAS lonely.

Never,
from month
to month,
from year
to year,
except during my brief intervals of rest at home,
did I see one creature
to whom I could open my heart,
or freely speak my thoughts
with any hope of sympathy,
or even comprehension:

never one,
unless it were poor Nancy Brown,

with whom I could enjoy a single moment of real social intercourse,
or whose conversation was calculated
to render me better,
wiser,
or happier than before;
or who,
as far as I could see,
could be greatly benefited by mine.

My only companions had been unamiable children,
and ignorant,
wrong- headed girls;
from whose fatiguing folly,
unbroken solitude was often a relief most earnestly desired and dearly prized.

But
to be restricted
to such associates was a serious evil,
both in its immediate effects and the consequences that were likely
to ensue.

Never a new idea or stirring thought came
to me from without;
and such as rose within me were,

for the most part,
miserably crushed at once,
or doomed
to sicken or fade away,
because they could not see the light.Habitual associates are known
to exercise a great influence over each other's minds and manners.

Those whose actions are
for ever before our eyes,
whose words are ever in our ears,
will naturally lead us,
albeit against our will,
slowly,
gradually,
imperceptibly,
perhaps,

to act and speak as they do.

I will not presume
to say how far this irresistible power of assimilation extends;
but if one civilised man were doomed
to pass a dozen years amid a race of intractable savages,
unless he had power
to improve them,
I greatly question whether,
at the close of that period,
he would not have become,
at least,
a barbarian himself.

And I,
as I could not make my young companions better,
feared exceedingly that they would make me worse - would gradually bring my feelings,
habits,
capacities,

to the level of their own;
without,
however,
imparting
to me their lightheartedness and cheerful vivacity.Already,
I seemed
to feel my intellect deteriorating,
my heart petrifying,
my soul contracting;
and I trembled lest my very moral perceptions should become deadened,
my distinctions of right and wrong confounded,
and all my better faculties be sunk,
at last,
beneath the baneful influence of such a mode of life.

The gross vapours of earth were gathering around me,
and closing in upon my inward heaven;
and thus it was that Mr. Weston rose at length upon me,
appearing like the morning star in my horizon,

to save me from the fear of utter darkness;
and I rejoiced that I had now a subject
for contemplation that was above me,
not beneath.

I was glad
to see that all the world was not made up of Bloomfields,
Murrays,
Hatfields,
Ashbys,
&c.;
and that human excellence was not a mere dream of the imagination.

When we hear a little good and no harm of a person,
it is easy and pleasant
to imagine more:

in short,
it is needless
to analyse all my thoughts;
but Sunday was now become a day of peculiar delight
to me (I was now almost broken-in
to the back corner in the carriage),

for I liked
to hear him - and I liked
to see him,
too;
though I knew he was not handsome,
or even what is called agreeable,
in outward aspect;
but,
certainly,
he was not ugly.In stature he was a little,
a very little,
above the middle size;
the outline of his face would be pronounced too square
for beauty,
but
to me it announced decision of character;
his dark brown hair was not carefully curled,
like Mr. Hatfield's,
but simply brushed aside over a broad white forehead;
the eyebrows,
I suppose,
were too projecting,
but from under those dark brows there gleamed an eye of singular power,
brown in colour,
not large,
and somewhat deep-set,
but strikingly brilliant,
and full of expression;
there was character,
too,
in the mouth,
something that bespoke a man of firm purpose and an habitual thinker;
and when he smiled - but I will not speak of that yet,
for,
at the time I mention,
I had never seen him smile:

and,
indeed,
his general appearance did not impress me
with the idea of a man given
to such a relaxation,
nor of such an individual as the cottagers described him.

I had early formed my opinion of him;
and,
in spite of Miss Murray's objurgations:

was fully convinced that he was a man of strong sense,
firm faith,
and ardent piety,
but thoughtful and stern:

and when I found that,

to his other good qualities,
was added that of true benevolence and gentle,
considerate kindness,
the discovery,
perhaps,
delighted me the more,
as I had not been prepared
to expect it.


CHAPTER XII - THE SHOWER
THE next visit I paid
to Nancy Brown was in the second week in March:

for,
though I had many spare minutes during the day,
I seldom could look upon an hour as entirely my own;
since,
where everything was left
to the caprices of Miss Matilda and her sister,
there could be no order or regularity.

Whatever occupation I chose,
when not actually busied about them or their concerns,
I had,
as it were,

to keep my loins girded,
my shoes on my feet,
and my staff in my hand;

for not
to be immediately forthcoming when called for,
was regarded as a grave and inexcusable offence:

not only by my pupils and their mother,
but by the very servant,
who came in breathless haste
to call me,
exclaiming,
'You're
to go
to the schoolroom DIRECTLY,
mum,
the young ladies is WAITING!!' Climax of horror!

actually waiting
for their governess!!!
But this time I was pretty sure of an hour or two
to myself;

for Matilda was preparing
for a long ride,
and Rosalie was dressing
for a dinner-party at Lady Ashby's:

so I took the opportunity of repairing
to the widow's cottage,
where I found her in some anxiety about her cat,
which had been absent all day.

I comforted her
with as many anecdotes of that animal's roving propensities as I could recollect.

'I'm feared o' th' gamekeepers,' said she:

'that's all 'at I think on.

If th' young gentlemen had been at home,
I should a' thought they'd been setting their dogs at her,
an' worried her,
poor thing,
as they did MANY a poor thing's cat;
but I haven't that
to be feared on now.' Nancy's eyes were better,
but still far from well:

she had been trying
to make a Sunday shirt
for her son,
but told me she could only bear
to do a little bit at it now and then,
so that it progressed but slowly,
though the poor lad wanted it sadly.

So I proposed
to help her a little,
after I had read
to her,

for I had plenty of time that evening,
and need not return till dusk.

She thankfully accepted the offer.

'An' you'll be a bit o' company
for me too,
Miss,' said she;
'I like as I feel lonesome without my cat.' But when I had finished reading,
and done the half of a seam,

with Nancy's capacious brass thimble fitted on
to my finger by means of a roll of paper,
I was disturbed by the entrance of Mr. Weston,

with the identical cat in his arMs. I now saw that he could smile,
and very pleasantly too.'I've done you a piece of good service,
Nancy,' he began:

then seeing me,
he acknowledged my presence by a slight bow.

I should have been invisible
to Hatfield,
or any other gentleman of those parts.

'I've delivered your cat,' he continued,
'from the hands,
or rather the gun,
of Mr. Murray's gamekeeper.'
'God bless you,
sir!' cried the grateful old woman,
ready
to weep
for joy as she received her favourite from his arMs.'Take care of it,' said he,
'and don't let it go near the rabbit- warren,

for the gamekeeper swears he'll shoot it if he sees it there again:

he would have done so to-day,
if I had not been in time
to stop him.

I believe it is raining,
Miss Grey,' added he,
more quietly,
observing that I had put aside my work,
and was preparing
to depart.

'Don't let me disturb you - I shan't stay two minutes.'
'You'll BOTH stay while this shower gets owered,' said Nancy,
as she stirred the fire,
and placed another chair beside it;
'what!

there's room
for all.'
'I can see better here,
thank you,
Nancy,' replied I,
taking my work
to the window,
where she had the goodness
to suffer me
to remain unmolested,
while she got a brush
to remove the cat's hairs from Mr. Weston's coat,
carefully wiped the rain from his hat,
and gave the cat its supper,
busily talking all the time:

now thanking her clerical friend
for what he had done;
now wondering how the cat had found out the warren;
and now lamenting the probable consequences of such a discovery.

He listened
with a quiet,
good- natured smile,
and at length took a seat in compliance
with her pressing invitations,
but repeated that he did not mean
to stay.'I have another place
to go to,' said he,
'and I see' (glancing at the book on the table) 'someone else has been reading
to you.'
'Yes,
sir;
Miss Grey has been as kind as read me a chapter;
an' now she's helping me
with a shirt
for our Bill - but I'm feared she'll be cold there.

Won't you come
to th' fire,
Miss?'
'No,
thank you,
Nancy,
I'm quite warm.

I must go as soon as this shower is over.'
'Oh,
Miss!

You said you could stop while dusk!' cried the provoking old woman,
and Mr. Weston seized his hat.'Nay,
sir,' exclaimed she,
'pray don't go now,
while it rains so fast.'
'But it strikes me I'm keeping your visitor away from the fire.'
'No,
you're not,
Mr. Weston,' replied I,
hoping there was no harm in a falsehood of that description.'No,
sure!' cried Nancy.

'What,
there's lots o' room!'
'Miss Grey,' said he,
half-jestingly,
as if he felt it necessary
to change the present subject,
whether he had anything particular
to say or not,
'I wish you would make my peace
with the squire,
when you see him.

He was by when I rescued Nancy's cat,
and did not quite approve of the deed.

I told him I thought he might better spare all his rabbits than she her cat,

for which audacious assertion he treated me
to some rather ungentlemanly language;
and I fear I retorted a trifle too warmly.'
'Oh,
lawful sir!

I hope you didn't fall out wi' th' maister
for sake o' my cat!

he cannot bide answering again - can th' maister.'
'Oh!

it's no matter,
Nancy:

I don't care about it,
really;
I said nothing VERY uncivil;
and I suppose Mr. Murray is accustomed
to use rather strong language when he's heated.'
'Ay,
sir:

it's a pity.'
'And now,
I really must go.

I have
to visit a place a mile beyond this;
and you would not have me
to return in the dark:

besides,
it has nearly done raining now - so good-evening,
Nancy.

Good- evening,
Miss Grey.'
'Good-evening,
Mr. Weston;
but don't depend upon me
for making your peace
with Mr. Murray,

for I never see him -
to speak to.'
'Don't you;
it can't be helped then,' replied he,
in dolorous resignation:

then,

with a peculiar half-smile,
he added,
'But never mind;
I imagine the squire has more
to apologise
for than I;' and left the cottage.I went on
with my sewing as long as I could see,
and then bade Nancy good-evening;
checking her too lively gratitude by the undeniable assurance that I had only done
for her what she would have done
for me,
if she had been in my place and I in hers.

I hastened back
to Horton Lodge,
where,
having entered the schoolroom,
I found the tea-table all in confusion,
the tray flooded
with slops,
and Miss Matilda in a most ferocious humour.'Miss Grey,
whatever have you been about?

I've had tea half an hour ago,
and had
to make it myself,
and drink it all alone!

I wish you would come in sooner!'
'I've been
to see Nancy Brown.

I thought you would not be back from your ride.'
'How could I ride in the rain,
I should like
to know.

That damned pelting shower was vexatious enough - coming on when I was just in full swing:

and then
to come and find nobody in
to tea!

and you know I can't make the tea as I like it.'
'I didn't think of the shower,' replied I (and,
indeed,
the thought of its driving her home had never entered my head).'No,
of course;
you were under shelter yourself,
and you never thought of other people.'
I bore her coarse reproaches
with astonishing equanimity,
even
with cheerfulness;

for I was sensible that I had done more good
to Nancy Brown than harm
to her:

and perhaps some other thoughts assisted
to keep up my spirits,
and impart a relish
to the cup of cold,
overdrawn tea,
and a charm
to the otherwise unsightly table;
and - I had almost said -
to Miss Matilda's unamiable face.

But she soon betook herself
to the stables,
and left me
to the quiet enjoyment of my solitary meal.


CHAPTER XIII - THE PRIMROSES
MISS MURRAY now always went twice
to church,

for she so loved admiration that she could not bear
to lose a single opportunity of obtaining it;
and she was so sure of it wherever she showed herself,
that,
whether Harry Meltham and Mr. Green were there or not,
there was certain
to be somebody present who would not be insensible
to her charms,
besides the Rector,
whose official capacity generally obliged him
to attend.

Usually,
also,
if the weather permitted,
both she and her sister would walk home;
Matilda,
because she hated the confinement of the carriage;
she,
because she disliked the privacy of it,
and enjoyed the company that generally enlivened the first mile of the journey in walking from the church
to Mr. Green's park-gates:

near which commenced the private road
to Horton Lodge,
which lay in the opposite direction,
while the highway conducted in a straightforward course
to the still more distant mansion of Sir Hugh Meltham.

Thus there was always a chance of being accompanied,
so far,
either by Harry Meltham,

with or without Miss Meltham,
or Mr. Green,

with perhaps one or both of his sisters,
and any gentlemen visitors they might have.Whether I walked
with the young ladies or rode
with their parents,
depended upon their own capricious will:

if they chose
to 'take' me,
I went;
if,

for reasons best known
to themselves,
they chose
to go alone,
I took my seat in the carriage.

I liked walking better,
but a sense of reluctance
to obtrude my presence on anyone who did not desire it,
always kept me passive on these and similar occasions;
and I never inquired in
to the causes of their varying whiMs. Indeed,
this was the best policy -
for
to submit and oblige was the governess's part,

to consult their own pleasure was that of the pupils.

But when I did walk,
the first half of journey was generally a great nuisance
to me.

As none of the before-mentioned ladies and gentlemen ever noticed me,
it was disagreeable
to walk beside them,
as if listening
to what they said,
or wishing
to be thought one of them,
while they talked over me,
or across;
and if their eyes,
in speaking,
chanced
to fall on me,
it seemed as if they looked on vacancy - as if they either did not see me,
or were very desirous
to make it appear so.

It was disagreeable,
too,

to walk behind,
and thus appear
to acknowledge my own inferiority;
for,
in truth,
I considered myself pretty nearly as good as the best of them,
and wished them
to know that I did so,
and not
to imagine that I looked upon myself as a mere domestic,
who knew her own place too well
to walk beside such fine ladies and gentlemen as they were - though her young ladies might choose
to have her
with them,
and even condescend
to converse
with her when no better company were at hand.

Thus - I am almost ashamed
to confess it - but indeed I gave myself no little trouble in my endeavours (if I did keep up
with them)
to appear perfectly unconscious or regardless of their presence,
as if I were wholly absorbed in my own reflections,
or the contemplation of surrounding objects;
or,
if I lingered behind,
it was some bird or insect,
some tree or flower,
that attracted my attention,
and having duly examined that,
I would pursue my walk alone,
at a leisurely pace,
until my pupils had bidden adieu
to their companions and turned off in
to the quiet private road.One such occasion I particularly well remember;
it was a lovely afternoon about the close of March;
Mr. Green and his sisters had sent their carriage back empty,
in order
to enjoy the bright sunshine and balmy air in a sociable walk home along
with their visitors,
Captain Somebody and Lieutenant Somebody-else (a couple of military fops),
and the Misses Murray,
who,
of course,
contrived
to join them.

Such a party was highly agreeable
to Rosalie;
but not finding it equally suitable
to my taste,
I presently fell back,
and began
to botanise and entomologise along the green banks and budding hedges,
till the company was considerably in advance of me,
and I could hear the sweet song of the happy lark;
then my spirit of misanthropy began
to melt away beneath the soft,
pure air and genial sunshine;
but sad thoughts of early childhood,
and yearnings
for departed joys,
or
for a brighter future lot,
arose instead.

As my eyes wandered over the steep banks covered
with young grass and green-leaved plants,
and surmounted by budding hedges,
I longed intensely
for some familiar flower that might recall the woody dales or green hill-sides of home:

the brown moorlands,
of course,
were out of the question.

Such a discovery would make my eyes gush out
with water,
no doubt;
but that was one of my greatest enjoyments now.

At length I descried,
high up between the twisted roots of an oak,
three lovely primroses,
peeping so sweetly from their hiding-place that the tears already started at the sight;
but they grew so high above me,
that I tried in vain
to gather one or two,

to dream over and
to carry
with me:

I could not reach them unless I climbed the bank,
which I was deterred from doing by hearing a footstep at that moment behind me,
and was,
therefore,
about
to turn away,
when I was startled by the words,
'Allow me
to gather them
for you,
Miss Grey,' spoken in the grave,
low tones of a well-known voice.

Immediately the flowers were gathered,
and in my hand.

It was Mr. Weston,
of course - who else would trouble himself
to do so much
for ME?
'I thanked him;
whether warmly or coldly,
I cannot tell:

but certain I am that I did not express half the gratitude I felt.

It was foolish,
perhaps,

to feel any gratitude at all;
but it seemed
to me,
at that moment,
as if this were a remarkable instance of his good-nature:

an act of kindness,
which I could not repay,
but never should forget:

so utterly unaccustomed was I
to receive such civilities,
so little prepared
to expect them from anyone within fifty miles of Horton Lodge.

Yet this did not prevent me from feeling a little uncomfortable in his presence;
and I proceeded
to follow my pupils at a much quicker pace than before;
though,
perhaps,
if Mr. Weston had taken the hint,
and let me pass without another word,
I might have repeated it an hour after:

but he did not.

A somewhat rapid walk
for me was but an ordinary pace
for him.'Your young ladies have left you alone,' said he.'Yes,
they are occupied
with more agreeable company.'
'Then don't trouble yourself
to overtake them.' I slackened my pace;
but next moment regretted having done so:

my companion did not speak;
and I had nothing in the world
to say,
and feared he might be in the same predicament.

At length,
however,
he broke the pause by asking,

with a certain quiet abruptness peculiar
to himself,
if I liked flowers.'Yes;
very much,' I answered,
'wild-flowers especially.'
'I like wild-flowers,' said he;
'others I don't care about,
because I have no particular associations connected
with them - except one or two.

What are your favourite flowers?'
'Primroses,
blue-bells,
and heath-blossoMs.'
'Not violets?'
'No;
because,
as you say,
I have no particular associations connected
with them;

for there are no sweet violets among the hills and valleys round my home.'
'It must be a great consolation
to you
to have a home,
Miss Grey,' observed my companion after a short pause:

'however remote,
or however seldom visited,
still it is something
to look to.'
'It is so much that I think I could not live without it,' replied I,

with an enthusiasm of which I immediately repented;

for I thought it must have sounded essentially silly.'Oh,
yes,
you could,' said he,

with a thoughtful smile.

'The ties that bind us
to life are tougher than you imagine,
or than anyone can who has not felt how roughly they may be pulled without breaking.

You might be miserable without a home,
but even YOU could live;
and not so miserably as you suppose.

The human heart is like india-rubber;
a little swells it,
but a great deal will not burst it.

If "little more than nothing will disturb it,
little less than all things will suffice"
to break it.

As in the outer members of our frame,
there is a vital power inherent in itself that strengthens it against external violence.

Every blow that shakes it will serve
to harden it against a future stroke;
as constant labour thickens the skin of the hand,
and strengthens its muscles instead of wasting them away:

so that a day of arduous toil,
that might excoriate a lady's palm,
would make no sensible impression on that of a hardy ploughman.'I speak from experience - partly my own.

There was a time when I thought as you do - at least,
I was fully persuaded that home and its affections were the only things that made life tolerable:

that,
if deprived of these,
existence would become a burden hard
to be endured;
but now I have no home - unless you would dignify my two hired rooms at Horton by such a name;
- and not twelve months ago I lost the last and dearest of my early friends;
and yet,
not only I live,
but I am not wholly destitute of hope and comfort,
even
for this life:

though I must acknowledge that I can seldom enter even an humble cottage at the close of day,
and see its inhabitants peaceably gathered around their cheerful hearth,
without a feeling ALMOST of envy at their domestic enjoyment.'
'You don't know what happiness lies before you yet,' said I:

'you are now only in the commencement of your journey.'
'The best of happiness,' replied he,
'is mine already - the power and the will
to be useful.'
We now approached a stile communicating
with a footpath that conducted
to a farm-house,
where,
I suppose,
Mr. Weston purposed
to make himself 'useful;'
for he presently took leave of me,
crossed the stile,
and traversed the path
with his usual firm,
elastic tread,
leaving me
to ponder his words as I continued my course alone.

I had heard before that he had lost his mother not many months before he came.

She then was the last and dearest of his early friends;
and he had NO HOME.

I pitied him from my heart:

I almost wept
for sympathy.

And this,
I thought,
accounted
for the shade of premature thoughtfulness that so frequently clouded his brow,
and obtained
for him the reputation of a morose and sullen disposition
with the charitable Miss Murray and all her kin.

'But,' thought I,
'he is not so miserable as I should be under such a deprivation:

he leads an active life;
and a wide field
for useful exertion lies before him.

He can MAKE friends;
and he can make a home too,
if he pleases;
and,
doubtless,
he will please some time.

God grant the partner of that home may be worthy of his choice,
and make it a happy one - such a home as he deserves
to have!

And how delightful it would be
to - ' But no matter what I thought.I began this book
with the intention of concealing nothing;
that those who liked might have the benefit of perusing a fellow- creature's heart:

but we have some thoughts that all the angels in heaven are welcome
to behold,
but not our brother-men - not even the best and kindest amongst them.By this time the Greens had taken themselves
to their own abode,
and the Murrays had turned down the private road,
whither I hastened
to follow them.

I found the two girls warm in an animated discussion on the respective merits of the two young officers;
but on seeing me Rosalie broke off in the middle of a sentence
to exclaim,

with malicious glee -
'Oh-ho,
Miss Grey!

you're come at last,
are you?

No WONDER you lingered so long behind;
and no WONDER you always stand up so vigorously
for Mr. Weston when I abuse him.

Ah-ha!

I see it all now!'
'Now,
come,
Miss Murray,
don't be foolish,' said I,
attempting a good-natured laugh;
'you know such nonsense can make no impression on me.'
But she still went on talking such intolerable stuff - her sister helping her
with appropriate fiction coined
for the occasion - that I thought it necessary
to say something in my own justification.'What folly all this is!' I exclaimed.

'If Mr. Weston's road happened
to be the same as mine
for a few yards,
and if he chose
to exchange a word or two in passing,
what is there so remarkable in that?

I assure you,
I never spoke
to him before:

except once.'
'Where?

where?

and when?' cried they eagerly.'In Nancy's cottage.'
'Ah-ha!

you've met him there,
have you?' exclaimed Rosalie,

with exultant laughter.

'Ah!

now,
Matilda,
I've found out why she's so fond of going
to Nancy Brown's!

She goes there
to flirt
with Mr. Weston.'
'Really,
that is not worth contradicting - I only saw him there once,
I tell you - and how could I know he was coming?'
Irritated as I was at their foolish mirth and vexatious imputations,
the uneasiness did not continue long:

when they had had their laugh out,
they returned again
to the captain and lieutenant;
and,
while they disputed and commented upon them,
my indignation rapidly cooled;
the cause of it was quickly forgotten,
and I turned my thoughts in
to a pleasanter channel.

Thus we proceeded up the park,
and entered the hall;
and as I ascended the stairs
to my own chamber,
I had but one thought within me:

my heart was filled
to overflowing
with one single earnest wish.

Having entered the room,
and shut the door,
I fell upon my knees and offered up a fervent but not impetuous prayer:

'Thy will be done,' I strove
to say throughout;
but,
'Father,
all things are possible
with Thee,
and may it be Thy will,' was sure
to follow.

That wish - that prayer - both men and women would have scorned me
for - 'But,
Father,
THOU wilt NOT despise!' I said,
and felt that it was true.

It seemed
to me that another's welfare was at least as ardently implored
for as my own;
nay,
even THAT was the principal object of my heart's desire.

I might have been deceiving myself;
but that idea gave me confidence
to ask,
and power
to hope I did not ask in vain.

As
for the primroses,
I kept two of them in a glass in my room until they were completely withered,
and the housemaid threw them out;
and the petals of the other I pressed between the leaves of my Bible - I have them still,
and mean
to keep them always.


CHAPTER XIV - THE RECTOR
THE following day was as fine as the preceding one.

Soon after breakfast Miss Matilda,
having galloped and blundered through a few unprofitable lessons,
and vengeably thumped the piano
for an hour,
in a terrible humour
with both me and it,
because her mamma would not give her a holiday,
had betaken herself
to her favourite places of resort,
the yards,
the stables,
and the dog-kennels;
and Miss Murray was gone forth
to enjoy a quiet ramble
with a new fashionable novel
for her companion,
leaving me in the schoolroom hard at work upon a water-colour drawing which I had promised
to do
for her,
and which she insisted upon my finishing that day.At my feet lay a little rough terrier.

It was the property of Miss Matilda;
but she hated the animal,
and intended
to sell it,
alleging that it was quite spoiled.

It was really an excellent dog of its kind;
but she affirmed it was fit
for nothing,
and had not even the sense
to know its own mistress.The fact was she had purchased it when but a small puppy,
insisting at first that no one should touch it but herself;
but soon becoming tired of so helpless and troublesome a nursling,
she had gladly yielded
to my entreaties
to be allowed
to take charge of it;
and I,
by carefully nursing the little creature from infancy
to adolescence,
of course,
had obtained its affections:

a reward I should have greatly valued,
and looked upon as far outweighing all the trouble I had had
with it,
had not poor Snap's grateful feelings exposed him
to many a harsh word and many a spiteful kick and pinch from his owner,
and were he not now in danger of being 'put away' in consequence,
or transferred
to some rough,
stony- hearted master.

But how could I help it?

I could not make the dog hate me by cruel treatment,
and she would not propitiate him by kindness.However,
while I thus sat,
working away
with my pencil,
Mrs. Murray came,
half-sailing,
half-bustling,
in
to the room.'Miss Grey,' she began,
- 'dear!

how can you sit at your drawing such a day as this?' (She thought I was doing it
for my own pleasure.) 'I WONDER you don't put on your bonnet and go out
with the young ladies.'
'I think,
ma'am,
Miss Murray is reading;
and Miss Matilda is amusing herself
with her dogs.'
'If you would try
to amuse Miss Matilda yourself a little more,
I think she would not be driven
to seek amusement in the companionship of dogs and horses and grooms,
so much as she is;
and if you would be a little more cheerful and conversable
with Miss Murray,
she would not so often go wandering in the fields
with a book in her hand.

However,
I don't want
to vex you,' added she,
seeing,
I suppose,
that my cheeks burned and my hand trembled
with some unamiable emotion.

'Do,
pray,
try not
to be so touchy - there's no speaking
to you else.

And tell me if you know where Rosalie is gone:

and why she likes
to be so much alone?'
'She says she likes
to be alone when she has a new book
to read.'
'But why can't she read it in the park or the garden?

- why should she go in
to the fields and lanes?

And how is it that that Mr. Hatfield so often finds her out?

She told me last week he'd walked his horse by her side all up Moss Lane;
and now I'm sure it was he I saw,
from my dressing-room window,
walking so briskly past the park-gates,
and on towards the field where she so frequently goes.

I wish you would go and see if she is there;
and just gently remind her that it is not proper
for a young lady of her rank and prospects
to be wandering about by herself in that manner,
exposed
to the attentions of anyone that presumes
to address her;
like some poor neglected girl that has no park
to walk in,
and no friends
to take care of her:

and tell her that her papa would be extremely angry if he knew of her treating Mr. Hatfield in the familiar manner that I fear she does;
and - oh!

if you - if ANY governess had but half a mother's watchfulness - half a mother's anxious care,
I should be saved this trouble;
and you would see at once the necessity of keeping your eye upon her,
and making your company agreeable
to - Well,
go - go;
there's no time
to be lost,' cried she,
seeing that I had put away my drawing materials,
and was waiting in the doorway
for the conclusion of her address.According
to her prognostications,
I found Miss Murray in her favourite field just without the park;
and,
unfortunately,
not alone;

for the tall,
stately figure of Mr. Hatfield was slowly sauntering by her side.Here was a poser
for me.

It was my duty
to interrupt the TETE-A- TETE:

but how was it
to be done?

Mr. Hatfield could not
to be driven away by so insignificant person as I;
and
to go and place myself on the other side of Miss Murray,
and intrude my unwelcome presence upon her without noticing her companion,
was a piece of rudeness I could not be guilty of:

neither had I the courage
to cry aloud from the top of the field that she was wanted elsewhere.

So I took the intermediate course of walking slowly but steadily towards them;
resolving,
if my approach failed
to scare away the beau,

to pass by and tell Miss Murray her mamma wanted her.She certainly looked very charming as she strolled,
lingering along under the budding horse-chestnut trees that stretched their long arms over the park-palings;

with her closed book in one hand,
and in the other a graceful sprig of myrtle,
which served her as a very pretty plaything;
her bright ringlets escaping profusely from her little bonnet,
and gently stirred by the breeze,
her fair cheek flushed
with gratified vanity,
her smiling blue eyes,
now slyly glancing towards her admirer,
now gazing downward at her myrtle sprig.

But Snap,
running before me,
interrupted her in the midst of some half-pert,
half-playful repartee,
by catching hold of her dress and vehemently tugging thereat;
till Mr. Hatfield,

with his cane,
administered a resounding thwack upon the animal's skull,
and sent it yelping back
to me
with a clamorous outcry that afforded the reverend gentleman great amusement:

but seeing me so near,
he thought,
I suppose,
he might as well be taking his departure;
and,
as I stooped
to caress the dog,

with ostentatious pity
to show my disapproval of his severity,
I heard him say:

'When shall I see you again,
Miss Murray?'
'At church,
I suppose,' replied she,
'unless your business chances
to bring you here again at the precise moment when I happen
to be walking by.'
'I could always manage
to have business here,
if I knew precisely when and where
to find you.'
'But if I would,
I could not inform you,

for I am so immethodical,
I never can tell to-day what I shall do tomorrow.'
'Then give me that,
meantime,

to comfort me,' said he,
half jestingly and half in earnest,
extending his hand
for the sprig of myrtle.'No,
indeed,
I shan't.'
'Do!

PRAY do!

I shall be the most miserable of men if you don't.

You cannot be so cruel as
to deny me a favour so easily granted and yet so highly prized!' pleaded he as ardently as if his life depended on it.By this time I stood within a very few yards of them,
impatiently waiting his departure.'There then!

take it and go,' said Rosalie.He joyfully received the gift,
murmured something that made her blush and toss her head,
but
with a little laugh that showed her displeasure was entirely affected;
and then
with a courteous salutation withdrew.'Did you ever see such a man,
Miss Grey?' said she,
turning
to me;
'I'm so GLAD you came!

I thought I never SHOULD,
get rid of him;
and I was so terribly afraid of papa seeing him.'
'Has he been
with you long?'
'No,
not long,
but he's so extremely impertinent:

and he's always hanging about,
pretending his business or his clerical duties require his attendance in these parts,
and really watching
for poor me,
and pouncing upon me wherever he sees me.'
'Well,
your mamma thinks you ought not
to go beyond the park or garden without some discreet,
matronly person like me
to accompany you,
and keep off all intruders.

She descried Mr. Hatfield hurrying past the park-gates,
and forth
with despatched me
with instructions
to seek you up and
to take care of you,
and likewise
to warn - '
'Oh,
mamma's so tiresome!

As if I couldn't take care of myself.

She bothered me before about Mr. Hatfield;
and I told her she might trust me:

I never should forget my rank and station
for the most delightful man that ever breathed.

I wish he would go down on his knees to-morrow,
and implore me
to be his wife,
that I might just show her how mistaken she is in supposing that I could ever - Oh,
it provokes me so!


to think that I could be such a fool as
to fall in LOVE!

It is quite beneath the dignity of a woman
to do such a thing.

Love!

I detest the word!

As applied
to one of our sex,
I think it a perfect insult.

A preference I MIGHT acknowledge;
but never
for one like poor Mr. Hatfield,
who has not seven hundred a year
to bless himself with.

I like
to talk
to him,
because he's so clever and amusing - I wish Sir Thomas Ashby were half as nice;
besides,
I must have SOMEBODY
to flirt with,
and no one else has the sense
to come here;
and when we go out,
mamma won't let me flirt
with anybody but Sir Thomas - if he's there;
and if he's NOT there,
I'm bound hand and foot,

for fear somebody should go and make up some exaggerated story,
and put it in
to his head that I'm engaged,
or likely
to be engaged,

to somebody else;
or,
what is more probable,

for fear his nasty old mother should see or hear of my ongoings,
and conclude that I'm not a fit wife
for her excellent son:

as if the said son were not the greatest scamp in Christendom;
and as if any woman of common decency were not a world too good
for him.'
'Is it really so,
Miss Murray?

and does your mamma know it,
and yet wish you
to marry him?'
'
to be sure,
she does!

She knows more against him than I do,
I believe:

she keeps it from me lest I should be discouraged;
not knowing how little I care about such things.


for it's no great matter,
really:

he'll be all right when he's married,
as mamma says;
and reformed rakes make the best husbands,
EVERYBODY knows.

I only wish he were not so ugly - THAT'S all I think about:

but then there's no choice here in the country;
and papa WILL NOT let us go
to London - '
'But I should think Mr. Hatfield would be far better.'
'And so he would,
if he were lord of Ashby Park - there's not a doubt of it:

but the fact is,
I MUST have Ashby Park,
whoever shares it
with me.'
'But Mr. Hatfield thinks you like him all this time;
you don't consider how bitterly he will be disappointed when he finds himself mistaken.'
'NO,
indeed!

It will be a proper punishment
for his presumption -
for ever DARING
to think I could like him.

I should enjoy nothing so much as lifting the veil from his eyes.'
'The sooner you do it the better then.'
'No;
I tell you,
I like
to amuse myself
with him.

Besides,
he doesn't really think I like him.

I take good care of that:

you don't know how cleverly I manage.

He may presume
to think he can induce me
to like him;

for which I shall punish him as he deserves.'
'Well,
mind you don't give too much reason
for such presumption - that's all,' replied I.But all my exhortations were in vain:

they only made her somewhat more solicitous
to disguise her wishes and her thoughts from me.

She talked no more
to me about the Rector;
but I could see that her mind,
if not her heart,
was fixed upon him still,
and that she was intent upon obtaining another interview:


for though,
in compliance
with her mother's request,
I was now constituted the companion of her rambles
for a time,
she still persisted in wandering in the fields and lanes that lay in the nearest proximity
to the road;
and,
whether she talked
to me or read the book she carried in her hand,
she kept continually pausing
to look round her,
or gaze up the road
to see if anyone was coming;
and if a horseman trotted by,
I could tell by her unqualified abuse of the poor equestrian,
whoever he might be,
that she hated him BECAUSE he was not Mr. Hatfield.'Surely,' thought I,
'she is not so indifferent
to him as she believes herself
to be,
or would have others
to believe her;
and her mother's anxiety is not so wholly causeless as she affirMs.'
Three days passed away,
and he did not make his appearance.

On the afternoon of the fourth,
as we were walking beside the park-palings in the memorable field,
each furnished
with a book (
for I always took care
to provide myself
with something
to be doing when she did not require me
to talk),
she suddenly interrupted my studies by exclaiming -
'Oh,
Miss Grey!

do be so kind as
to go and see Mark Wood,
and take his wife half-a-crown from me - I should have given or sent it a week ago,
but quite forgot.

There!' said she,
throwing me her purse,
and speaking very fast - 'Never mind getting it out now,
but take the purse and give them what you like;
I would go
with you,
but I want
to finish this volume.

I'll come and meet you when I've done it.

Be quick,
will you - and - oh,
wait;
hadn't you better read
to him a bit?

Run
to the house and get some sort of a good book.

Anything will do.'
I did as I was desired;
but,
suspecting something from her hurried manner and the suddenness of the request,
I just glanced back before I quitted the field,
and there was Mr. Hatfield about
to enter at the gate below.

By sending me
to the house
for a book,
she had just prevented my meeting him on the road.'Never mind!' thought I,
'there'll be no great harm done.

Poor Mark will be glad of the half-crown,
and perhaps of the good book too;
and if the Rector does steal Miss Rosalie's heart,
it will only humble her pride a little;
and if they do get married at last,
it will only save her from a worse fate;
and she will be quite a good enough partner
for him,
and he
for her.'
Mark Wood was the consumptive labourer whom I mentioned before.

He was now rapidly wearing away.

Miss Murray,
by her liberality,
obtained literally the blessing of him that was ready
to perish;

for though the half-crown could be of very little service
to him,
he was glad of it
for the sake of his wife and children,
so soon
to be widowed and fatherless.

After I had sat a few minutes,
and read a little
for the comfort and edification of himself and his afflicted wife,
I left them;
but I had not proceeded fifty yards before I encountered Mr. Weston,
apparently on his way
to the same abode.

He greeted me in his usual quiet,
unaffected way,
stopped
to inquire about the condition of the sick man and his family,
and
with a sort of unconscious,
brotherly disregard
to ceremony took from my hand the book out of which I had been reading,
turned over its pages,
made a few brief but very sensible remarks,
and restored it;
then told me about some poor sufferer he had just been visiting,
talked a little about Nancy Brown,
made a few observations upon my little rough friend the terrier,
that was frisking at his feet,
and finally upon the beauty of the weather,
and departed.I have omitted
to give a detail of his words,
from a notion that they would not interest the reader as they did me,
and not because I have forgotten them.

No;
I remember them well;

for I thought them over and over again in the course of that day and many succeeding ones,
I know not how often;
and recalled every intonation of his deep,
clear voice,
every flash of his quick,
brown eye,
and every gleam of his pleasant,
but too transient smile.

Such a confession will look very absurd,
I fear:

but no matter:

I have written it:

and they that read it will not know the writer.While I was walking along,
happy within,
and pleased
with all around,
Miss Murray came hastening
to meet me;
her buoyant step,
flushed cheek,
and radiant smiles showing that she,
too,
was happy,
in her own way.

Running up
to me,
she put her arm through mine,
and without waiting
to recover breath,
began - 'Now,
Miss Grey,
think yourself highly honoured,

for I'm come
to tell you my news before I've breathed a word of it
to anyone else.'
'Well,
what is it?'
'Oh,
SUCH news!

In the first place,
you must know that Mr. Hatfield came upon me just after you were gone.

I was in such a way
for fear papa or mamma should see him;
but you know I couldn't call you back again,
and so!

- oh,
dear!

I can't tell you all about it now,

for there's Matilda,
I see,
in the park,
and I must go and open my budget
to her.

But,
however,
Hatfield was most uncommonly audacious,
unspeakably complimentary,
and unprecedentedly tender - tried
to be so,
at least - he didn't succeed very well in THAT,
because it's not his vein.

I'll tell you all he said another time.'
'But what did YOU say - I'm more interested in that?'
'I'll tell you that,
too,
at some future period.

I happened
to be in a very good humour just then;
but,
though I was complaisant and gracious enough,
I took care not
to compromise myself in any possible way.

But,
however,
the conceited wretch chose
to interpret my amiability of temper his own way,
and at length presumed upon my indulgence so far - what do you think?

- he actually made me an offer!'
'And you - '
'I proudly drew myself up,
and
with the greatest coolness expressed my astonishment at such an occurrence,
and hoped he had seen nothing in my conduct
to justify his expectations.

You should have SEEN how his countenance fell!

He went perfectly white in the face.

I assured him that I esteemed him and all that,
but could not possibly accede
to his proposals;
and if I did,
papa and mamma could never be brought
to give their consent.'
'"But if they could," said he,
"would yours be wanting?"


'"Certainly,
Mr. Hatfield," I replied,

with a cool decision which quelled all hope at once.

Oh,
if you had seen how dreadfully mortified he was - how crushed
to the earth by his disappointment!

really,
I almost pitied him myself.'One more desperate attempt,
however,
he made.

After a silence of considerable duration,
during which he struggled
to be calm,
and I
to be grave -
for I felt a strong propensity
to laugh - which would have ruined all - he said,

with the ghost of a smile - "But tell me plainly,
Miss Murray,
if I had the wealth of Sir Hugh Meltham,
or the prospects of his eldest son,
would you still refuse me?

Answer me truly,
upon your honour."


'"Certainly," said I.

"That would make no difference whatever."


'It was a great lie,
but he looked so confident in his own attractions still,
that I determined not
to leave him one stone upon another.

He looked me full in the face;
but I kept my countenance so well that he could not imagine I was saying anything more than the actual truth.'"Then it's all over,
I suppose," he said,
looking as if he could have died on the spot
with vexation and the intensity of his despair.

But he was angry as well as disappointed.

There was he,
suffering so unspeakably,
and there was I,
the pitiless cause of it all,
so utterly impenetrable
to all the artillery of his looks and words,
so calmly cold and proud,
he could not but feel some resentment;
and
with singular bitterness he began - "I certainly did not expect this,
Miss Murray.

I might say something about your past conduct,
and the hopes you have led me
to foster,
but I forbear,
on condition - "
'"No conditions,
Mr. Hatfield!" said I,
now truly indignant at his insolence.'"Then let me beg it as a favour," he replied,
lowering his voice at once,
and taking a humbler tone:

"let me entreat that you will not mention this affair
to anyone whatever.

If you will keep silence about it,
there need be no unpleasantness on either side - nothing,
I mean,
beyond what is quite unavoidable:


for my own feelings I will endeavour
to keep
to myself,
if I cannot annihilate them - I will try
to forgive,
if I cannot forget the cause of my sufferings.

I will not suppose,
Miss Murray,
that you know how deeply you have injured me.

I would not have you aware of it;
but if,
in addition
to the injury you have already done me - pardon me,
but,
whether innocently or not,
you HAVE done it - and if you add
to it by giving publicity
to this unfortunate affair,
or naming it AT ALL,
you will find that I too can speak,
and though you scorned my love,
you will hardly scorn my - "
'He stopped,
but he bit his bloodless lip,
and looked so terribly fierce that I was quite frightened.

However,
my pride upheld me still,
and I answered disdainfully;
"I do not know what motive you suppose I could have
for naming it
to anyone,
Mr. Hatfield;
but if I were disposed
to do so,
you would not deter me by threats;
and it is scarcely the part of a gentleman
to attempt it."


'"Pardon me,
Miss Murray," said he,
"I have loved you so intensely - I do still adore you so deeply,
that I would not willingly offend you;
but though I never have loved,
and never CAN love any woman as I have loved you,
it is equally certain that I never was so ill- treated by any.

On the contrary,
I have always found your sex the kindest and most tender and obliging of God's creation,
till now."

(Think of the conceited fellow saying that!) "And the novelty and harshness of the lesson you have taught me to-day,
and the bitterness of being disappointed in the only quarter on which the happiness of my life depended,
must excuse any appearance of asperity.

If my presence is disagreeable
to you,
Miss Murray," he said (
for I was looking about me
to show how little I cared
for him,
so he thought I was tired of him,
I suppose) - "if my presence is disagreeable
to you,
Miss Murray,
you have only
to promise me the favour I named,
and I will relieve you at once.

There are many ladies - some even in this parish - who would be delighted
to accept what you have so scornfully trampled under your feet.

They would be naturally inclined
to hate one whose surpassing loveliness has so completely estranged my heart from them and blinded me
to their attractions;
and a single hint of the truth from me
to one of these would be sufficient
to raise such a talk against you as would seriously injure your prospects,
and diminish your chance of success
with any other gentleman you or your mamma might design
to entangle."


'"What do your mean,
sir?"

said I,
ready
to stamp
with passion.'"I mean that this affair from beginning
to end appears
to me like a case of arrant flirtation,

to say the least of it - such a case as you would find it rather inconvenient
to have blazoned through the world:

especially
with the additions and exaggerations of your female rivals,
who would be too glad
to publish the matter,
if I only gave them a handle
to it.

But I promise you,
on the faith of a gentleman,
that no word or syllable that could tend
to your prejudice shall ever escape my lips,
provided you will - "
'"Well,
well,
I won't mention it," said I.

"You may rely upon my silence,
if that can afford you any consolation."


'"You promise it?"


'"Yes," I answered;

for I wanted
to get rid of him now.'"Farewell,
then!" said he,
in a most doleful,
heart-sick tone;
and
with a look where pride vainly struggled against despair,
he turned and went away:

longing,
no doubt,

to get home,
that he might shut himself up in his study and cry - if he doesn't burst in
to tears before he gets there.'
'But you have broken your promise already,' said I,
truly horrified at her perfidy.'Oh!

it's only
to you;
I know you won't repeat it.'
'Certainly,
I shall not:

but you say you are going
to tell your sister;
and she will tell your brothers when they come home,
and Brown immediately,
if you do not tell her yourself;
and Brown will blazon it,
or be the means of blazoning it,
throughout the country.'
'No,
indeed,
she won't.

We shall not tell her at all,
unless it be under the promise of the strictest secrecy.'
'But how can you expect her
to keep her promises better than her more enlightened mistress?'
'Well,
well,
she shan't hear it then,' said Miss Murray,
somewhat snappishly.'But you will tell your mamma,
of course,' pursued I;
'and she will tell your papa.'
'Of course I shall tell mamma - that is the very thing that pleases me so much.

I shall now be able
to convince her how mistaken she was in her fears about me.'
'Oh,
THAT'S it,
is it?

I was wondering what it was that delighted you so much.'
'Yes;
and another thing is,
that I've humbled Mr. Hatfield so charmingly;
and another - why,
you must allow me some share of female vanity:

I don't pretend
to be without that most essential attribute of our sex - and if you had seen poor Hatfield's intense eagerness in making his ardent declaration and his flattering proposal,
and his agony of mind,
that no effort of pride could conceal,
on being refused,
you would have allowed I had some cause
to be gratified.'
'The greater his agony,
I should think,
the less your cause
for gratification.'
'Oh,
nonsense!' cried the young lady,
shaking herself
with vexation.

'You either can't understand me,
or you won't.

If I had not confidence in your magnanimity,
I should think you envied me.

But you will,
perhaps,
comprehend this cause of pleasure - which is as great as any - namely,
that I am delighted
with myself
for my prudence,
my self-command,
my heartlessness,
if you please.

I was not a bit taken by surprise,
not a bit confused,
or awkward,
or foolish;
I just acted and spoke as I ought
to have done,
and was completely my own mistress throughout.

And here was a man,
decidedly good-looking - Jane and Susan Green call him bewitchingly handsome I suppose they're two of the ladies he pretends would be so glad
to have him;
but,
however,
he was certainly a very clever,
witty,
agreeable companion - not what you call clever,
but just enough
to make him entertaining;
and a man one needn't be ashamed of anywhere,
and would not soon grow tired of;
and
to confess the truth,
I rather liked him - better even,
of late,
than Harry Meltham - and he evidently idolised me;
and yet,
though he came upon me all alone and unprepared,
I had the wisdom,
and the pride,
and the strength
to refuse him - and so scornfully and coolly as I did:

I have good reason
to be proud of that.'
'And are you equally proud of having told him that his having the wealth of Sir Hugh Meltham would make no difference
to you,
when that was not the case;
and of having promised
to tell no one of his misadventure,
apparently without the slightest intention of keeping your promise?'
'Of course!

what else could I do?

You would not have had me - but I see,
Miss Grey,
you're not in a good temper.

Here's Matilda;
I'll see what she and mamma have
to say about it.'
She left me,
offended at my want of sympathy,
and thinking,
no doubt,
that I envied her.

I did not - at least,
I firmly believed I did not.

I was sorry
for her;
I was amazed,
disgusted at her heartless vanity;
I wondered why so much beauty should be given
to those who made so bad a use of it,
and denied
to some who would make it a benefit
to both themselves and others.But,
God knows best,
I concluded.

There are,
I suppose,
some men as vain,
as selfish,
and as heartless as she is,
and,
perhaps,
such women may be useful
to punish them.


CHAPTER XV - THE WALK
'OH,
dear!

I wish Hatfield had not been so precipitate!' said Rosalie next day at four P.M.,
as,

with a portentous yawn,
she laid down her worsted-work and looked listlessly towards the window.

'There's no inducement
to go out now;
and nothing
to look forward to.

The days will be so long and dull when there are no parties
to enliven them;
and there are none this week,
or next either,
that I know of.'
'Pity you were so cross
to him,' observed Matilda,

to whom this lamentation was addressed.

'He'll never come again:

and I suspect you liked him after all.

I hoped you would have taken him
for your beau,
and left dear Harry
to me.'
'Humph!

my beau must be an Adonis indeed,
Matilda,
the admired of all beholders,
if I am
to be contented
with him alone.

I'm sorry
to lose Hatfield,
I confess;
but the first decent man,
or number of men,
that come
to supply his place,
will be more than welcome.

It's Sunday to-morrow - I do wonder how he'll look,
and whether he'll be able
to go through the service.

Most likely he'll pretend he's got a cold,
and make Mr. Weston do it all.'
'Not he!' exclaimed Matilda,
somewhat contemptuously.

'Fool as he is,
he's not so soft as that comes to.'
Her sister was slightly offended;
but the event proved Matilda was right:

the disappointed lover performed his pastoral duties as usual.

Rosalie,
indeed,
affirmed he looked very pale and dejected:

he might be a little paler;
but the difference,
if any,
was scarcely perceptible.

As
for his dejection,
I certainly did not hear his laugh ringing from the vestry as usual,
nor his voice loud in hilarious discourse;
though I did hear it uplifted in rating the sexton in a manner that made the congregation stare;
and,
in his transits
to and from the pulpit and the communion-table,
there was more of solemn pomp,
and less of that irreverent,
self-confident,
or rather self-delighted imperiousness
with which he usually swept along - that air that seemed
to say,
'You all reverence and adore me,
I know;
but if anyone does not,
I defy him
to the teeth!' But the most remarkable change was,
that he never once suffered his eyes
to wander in the direction of Mr. Murray's pew,
and did not leave the church till we were gone.Mr. Hatfield had doubtless received a very severe blow;
but his pride impelled him
to use every effort
to conceal the effects of it.

He had been disappointed in his certain hope of obtaining not only a beautiful,
and,

to him,
highly attractive wife,
but one whose rank and fortune might give brilliance
to far inferior charms:

he was likewise,
no doubt,
intensely mortified by his repulse,
and deeply offended at the conduct of Miss Murray throughout.

It would have given him no little consolation
to have known how disappointed she was
to find him apparently so little moved,
and
to see that he was able
to refrain from casting a single glance at her throughout both services;
though,
she declared,
it showed he was thinking of her all the time,
or his eyes would have fallen upon her,
if it were only by chance:

but if they had so chanced
to fall,
she would have affirmed it was because they could not resist the attraction.

It might have pleased him,
too,
in some degree,

to have seen how dull and dissatisfied she was throughout that week (the greater part of it,
at least),

for lack of her usual source of excitement;
and how often she regretted having 'used him up so soon,' like a child that,
having devoured its plumcake too hastily,
sits sucking its fingers,
and vainly lamenting its greediness.At length I was called upon,
one fine morning,

to accompany her in a walk
to the village.

Ostensibly she went
to get some shades of Berlin wool,
at a tolerably respectable shop that was chiefly supported by the ladies of the vicinity:

really - I trust there is no breach of charity in supposing that she went
with the idea of meeting either
with the Rector himself,
or some other admirer by the way;

for as we went along,
she kept wondering 'what Hatfield would do or say,
if we met him,' &c.

&c.;
as we passed Mr. Green's park-gates,
she 'wondered whether he was at home - great stupid blockhead';
as Lady Meltham's carriage passed us,
she 'wondered what Mr. Harry was doing this fine day';
and then began
to abuse his elder brother
for being 'such a fool as
to get married and go and live in London.'
'Why,' said I,
'I thought you wanted
to live in London yourself.'
'Yes,
because it's so dull here:

but then he makes it still duller by taking himself off:

and if he were not married I might have him instead of that odious Sir Thomas.'
Then,
observing the prints of a horse's feet on the somewhat miry road,
she 'wondered whether it was a gentleman's horse,' and finally concluded it was,

for the impressions were too small
to have been made by a 'great clumsy cart-horse';
and then she 'wondered who the rider could be,' and whether we should meet him coming back,

for she was sure he had only passed that morning;
and lastly,
when we entered the village and saw only a few of its humble inhabitants moving about,
she 'wondered why the stupid people couldn't keep in their houses;
she was sure she didn't want
to see their ugly faces,
and dirty,
vulgar clothes - it wasn't
for that she came
to Horton!'
Amid all this,
I confess,
I wondered,
too,
in secret,
whether we should meet,
or catch a glimpse of somebody else;
and as we passed his lodgings,
I even went so far as
to wonder whether he was at the window.

On entering the shop,
Miss Murray desired me
to stand in the doorway while she transacted her business,
and tell her if anyone passed.

But alas!

there was no one visible besides the villagers,
except Jane and Susan Green coming down the single street,
apparently returning from a walk.'Stupid things!' muttered she,
as she came out after having concluded her bargain.

'Why couldn't they have their dolt of a brother
with them?

even he would be better than nothing.'
She greeted them,
however,

with a cheerful smile,
and protestations of pleasure at the happy meeting equal
to their own.

They placed themselves one on each side of her,
and all three walked away chatting and laughing as young ladies do when they get together,
if they be but on tolerably intimate terMs. But I,
feeling myself
to be one too many,
left them
to their merriment and lagged behind,
as usual on such occasions:

I had no relish
for walking beside Miss Green or Miss Susan like one deaf and dumb,
who could neither speak nor be spoken to.But this time I was not long alone.

It struck me,
first,
as very odd,
that just as I was thinking about Mr. Weston he should come up and accost me;
but afterwards,
on due reflection,
I thought there was nothing odd about it,
unless it were the fact of his speaking
to me;

for on such a morning and so near his own abode,
it was natural enough that he should be about;
and as
for my thinking of him,
I had been doing that,

with little intermission,
ever since we set out on our journey;
so there was nothing remarkable in that.'You are alone again,
Miss Grey,' said he.'Yes.'
'What kind of people are those ladies - the Misses Green?'
'I really don't know.'
'That's strange - when you live so near and see them so often!'
'Well,
I suppose they are lively,
good-tempered girls;
but I imagine you must know them better than I do,
yourself,

for I never exchanged a word
with either of them.'
'Indeed?

They don't strike me as being particularly reserved.'
'Very likely they are not so
to people of their own class;
but they consider themselves as moving in quite a different sphere from me!'
He made no reply
to this:

but after a short pause,
he said,
- 'I suppose it's these things,
Miss Grey,
that make you think you could not live without a home?'
'Not exactly.

The fact is I am too socially disposed
to be able
to live contentedly without a friend;
and as the only friends I have,
or am likely
to have,
are at home,
if it - or rather,
if they were gone - I will not say I could not live - but I would rather not live in such a desolate world.'
'But why do you say the only friends you are likely
to have?

Are you so unsociable that you cannot make friends?'
'No,
but I never made one yet;
and in my present position there is no possibility of doing so,
or even of forming a common acquaintance.

The fault may be partly in myself,
but I hope not altogether.'
'The fault is partly in society,
and partly,
I should think,
in your immediate neighbours:

and partly,
too,
in yourself;

for many ladies,
in your position,
would make themselves be noticed and accounted of.

But your pupils should be companions
for you in some degree;
they cannot be many years younger than yourself.'
'Oh,
yes,
they are good company sometimes;
but I cannot call them friends,
nor would they think of bestowing such a name on me - they have other companions better suited
to their tastes.'
'Perhaps you are too wise
for them.

How do you amuse yourself when alone - do you read much?'
'Reading is my favourite occupation,
when I have leisure
for it and books
to read.'
From speaking of books in general,
he passed
to different books in particular,
and proceeded by rapid transitions from topic
to topic,
till several matters,
both of taste and opinion,
had been discussed considerably within the space of half an hour,
but without the embellishment of many observations from himself;
he being evidently less bent upon communicating his own thoughts and predilections,
than on discovering mine.

He had not the tact,
or the art,

to effect such a purpose by skilfully drawing out my sentiments or ideas through the real or apparent statement of his own,
or leading the conversation by imperceptible gradations
to such topics as he wished
to advert to:

but such gentle abruptness,
and such single- minded straightforwardness,
could not possibly offend me.'And why should he interest himself at all in my moral and intellectual capacities:

what is it
to him what I think or feel?' I asked myself.

And my heart throbbed in answer
to the question.But Jane and Susan Green soon reached their home.

As they stood parleying at the park-gates,
attempting
to persuade Miss Murray
to come in,
I wished Mr. Weston would go,
that she might not see him
with me when she turned round;
but,
unfortunately,
his business,
which was
to pay one more visit
to poor Mark Wood,
led him
to pursue the same path as we did,
till nearly the close of our journey.

When,
however,
he saw that Rosalie had taken leave of her friends and I was about
to join her,
he would have left me and passed on at a quicker pace;
but,
as he civilly lifted his hat in passing her,

to my surprise,
instead of returning the salute
with a stiff,
ungracious bow,
she accosted him
with one of her sweetest smiles,
and,
walking by his side,
began
to talk
to him
with all imaginable cheerfulness and affability;
and so we proceeded all three together.After a short pause in the conversation,
Mr. Weston made some remark addressed particularly
to me,
as referring
to something we had been talking of before;
but before I could answer,
Miss Murray replied
to the observation and enlarged upon it:

he rejoined;
and,
from thence
to the close of the interview,
she engrossed him entirely
to herself.

It might be partly owing
to my own stupidity,
my want of tact and assurance:

but I felt myself wronged:

I trembled
with apprehension;
and I listened
with envy
to her easy,
rapid flow of utterance,
and saw
with anxiety the bright smile
with which she looked in
to his face from time
to time:


for she was walking a little in advance,

for the purpose (as I judged) of being seen as well as heard.

If her conversation was light and trivial,
it was amusing,
and she was never at a loss
for something
to say,
or
for suitable words
to express it in.

There was nothing pert or flippant in her manner now,
as when she walked
with Mr. Hatfield,
there was only a gentle,
playful kind of vivacity,
which I thought must be peculiarly pleasing
to a man of Mr. Weston's disposition and temperament.When he was gone she began
to laugh,
and muttered
to herself,
'I thought I could do it!'
'Do what?' I asked.'Fix that man.'
'What in the world do you mean?'
'I mean that he will go home and dream of me.

I have shot him through the heart!'
'How do you know?'
'By many infallible proofs:

more especially the look he gave me when he went away.

It was not an impudent look - I exonerate him from that - it was a look of reverential,
tender adoration.

Ha,
ha!

he's not quite such a stupid blockhead as I thought him!'
I made no answer,

for my heart was in my throat,
or something like it,
and I could not trust myself
to speak.

'O God,
avert it!' I cried,
internally - '
for his sake,
not
for mine!'
Miss Murray made several trivial observations as we passed up the park,

to which (in spite of my reluctance
to let one glimpse of my feelings appear) I could only answer by monosyllables.

Whether she intended
to torment me,
or merely
to amuse herself,
I could not tell - and did not much care;
but I thought of the poor man and his one lamb,
and the rich man
with his thousand flocks;
and I dreaded I knew not what
for Mr. Weston,
independently of my own blighted hopes.Right glad was I
to get in
to the house,
and find myself alone once more in my own room.

My first impulse was
to sink in
to the chair beside the bed;
and laying my head on the pillow,

to seek relief in a passionate burst of tears:

there was an imperative craving
for such an indulgence;
but,
alas!

I must restrain and swallow back my feelings still:

there was the bell - the odious bell
for the schoolroom dinner;
and I must go down
with a calm face,
and smile,
and laugh,
and talk nonsense - yes,
and eat,
too,
if possible,
as if all was right,
and I was just returned from a pleasant walk.


CHAPTER XVI - THE SUBSTITUTION
NEXT Sunday was one of the gloomiest of April days - a day of thick,
dark clouds,
and heavy showers.

None of the Murrays were disposed
to attend church in the afternoon,
excepting Rosalie:

she was bent upon going as usual;
so she ordered the carriage,
and I went
with her:

nothing loth,
of course,

for at church I might look without fear of scorn or censure upon a form and face more pleasing
to me than the most beautiful of God's creations;
I might listen without disturbance
to a voice more charming than the sweetest music
to my ears;
I might seem
to hold communion
with that soul in which I felt so deeply interested,
and imbibe its purest thoughts and holiest aspirations,

with no alloy
to such felicity except the secret reproaches of my conscience,
which would too often whisper that I was deceiving my own self,
and mocking God
with the service of a heart more bent upon the creature than the Creator.Sometimes,
such thoughts would give me trouble enough;
but sometimes I could quiet them
with thinking - it is not the man,
it is his goodness that I love.

'Whatsoever things are pure,
whatsoever things are lovely,
whatsoever things are honest and of good report,
think on these things.' We do well
to worship God in His works;
and I know none of them in which so many of His attributes - so much of His own spirit shines,
as in this His faithful servant;
whom
to know and not
to appreciate,
were obtuse insensibility in me,
who have so little else
to occupy my heart.Almost immediately after the conclusion of the service,
Miss Murray left the church.

We had
to stand in the porch,

for it was raining,
and the carriage was not yet come.

I wondered at her coming forth so hastily,

for neither young Meltham nor Squire Green was there;
but I soon found it was
to secure an interview
with Mr. Weston as he came out,
which he presently did.

Having saluted us both,
he would have passed on,
but she detained him;
first
with observations upon the disagreeable weather,
and then
with asking if he would be so kind as
to come some time to-morrow
to see the granddaughter of the old woman who kept the porter's lodge,

for the girl was ill of a fever,
and wished
to see him.

He promised
to do so.'And at what time will you be most likely
to come,
Mr. Weston?

The old woman will like
to know when
to expect you - you know such people think more about having their cottages in order when decent people come
to see them than we are apt
to suppose.'
Here was a wonderful instance of consideration from the thoughtless Miss Murray.

Mr. Weston named an hour in the morning at which he would endeavour,

to be there.

By this time the carriage was ready,
and the footman was waiting,

with an open umbrella,

to escort Miss Murray through the churchyard.

I was about
to follow;
but Mr. Weston had an umbrella too,
and offered me the benefit of its shelter,

for it was raining heavily.'No,
thank you,
I don't mind the rain,' I said.

I always lacked common sense when taken by surprise.'But you don't LIKE it,
I suppose?

- an umbrella will do you no harm at any rate,' he replied,

with a smile that showed he was not offended;
as a man of worse temper or less penetration would have been at such a refusal of his aid.

I could not deny the truth of his assertion,
and so went
with him
to the carriage;
he even offered me his hand on getting in:

an unnecessary piece of civility,
but I accepted that too,

for fear of giving offence.

One glance he gave,
one little smile at parting - it was but
for a moment;
but therein I read,
or thought I read,
a meaning that kindled in my heart a brighter flame of hope than had ever yet arisen.'I would have sent the footman back
for you,
Miss Grey,
if you'd waited a moment - you needn't have taken Mr. Weston's umbrella,' observed Rosalie,

with a very unamiable cloud upon her pretty face.'I would have come without an umbrella,
but Mr. Weston offered me the benefit of his,
and I could not have refused it more than I did without offending him,' replied I,
smiling placidly;

for my inward happiness made that amusing,
which would have wounded me at another time.The carriage was now in motion.

Miss Murray bent forwards,
and looked out of the window as we were passing Mr. Weston.

He was pacing homewards along the causeway,
and did not turn his head.'Stupid ass!' cried she,
throwing herself back again in the seat.

'You don't know what you've lost by not looking this way!'
'What has he lost?'
'A bow from me,
that would have raised him
to the seventh heaven!'
I made no answer.

I saw she was out of humour,
and I derived a secret gratification from the fact,
not that she was vexed,
but that she thought she had reason
to be so.

It made me think my hopes were not entirely the offspring of my wishes and imagination.'I mean
to take up Mr. Weston instead of Mr. Hatfield,' said my companion,
after a short pause,
resuming something of her usual cheerfulness.

'The ball at Ashby Park takes place on Tuesday,
you know;
and mamma thinks it very likely that Sir Thomas will propose
to me then:

such things are often done in the privacy of the ball- room,
when gentlemen are most easily ensnared,
and ladies most enchanting.

But if I am
to be married so soon,
I must make the best of the present time:

I am determined Hatfield shall not be the only man who shall lay his heart at my feet,
and implore me
to accept the worthless gift in vain.'
'If you mean Mr. Weston
to be one of your victims,' said I,

with affected indifference,
'you will have
to make such overtures yourself that you will find it difficult
to draw back when he asks you
to fulfil the expectations you have raised.'
'I don't suppose he will ask me
to marry him,
nor should I desire it:

that would be rather too much presumption!

but I intend him
to feel my power.

He has felt it already,
indeed:

but he shall ACKNOWLEDGE it too;
and what visionary hopes he may have,
he must keep
to himself,
and only amuse me
with the result of them -
for a time.'
'Oh!

that some kind spirit would whisper those words in his ear,' I inwardly exclaimed.

I was far too indignant
to hazard a reply
to her observation aloud;
and nothing more was said about Mr. Weston that day,
by me or in my hearing.

But next morning,
soon after breakfast,
Miss Murray came in
to the schoolroom,
where her sister was employed at her studies,
or rather her lessons,

for studies they were not,
and said,
'Matilda,
I want you
to take a walk
with me about eleven o'clock.'
'Oh,
I can't,
Rosalie!

I have
to give orders about my new bridle and saddle-cloth,
and speak
to the rat-catcher about his dogs:

Miss Grey must go
with you.'
'No,
I want you,' said Rosalie;
and calling her sister
to the window,
she whispered an explanation in her ear;
upon which the latter consented
to go.I remembered that eleven was the hour at which Mr. Weston proposed
to come
to the porter's lodge;
and remembering that,
I beheld the whole contrivance.

Accordingly,
at dinner,
I was entertained
with a long account of how Mr. Weston had overtaken them as they were walking along the road;
and how they had had a long walk and talk
with him,
and really found him quite an agreeable companion;
and how he must have been,
and evidently was,
delighted
with them and their amazing condescension,
&c.

&c.


CHAPTER XVII - CONFESSIONS
AS I am in the way of confessions I may as well acknowledge that,
about this time,
I paid more attention
to dress than ever I had done before.

This is not saying much -
for hither
to I had been a little neglectful in that particular;
but now,
also,
it was no uncommon thing
to spend as much as two minutes in the contemplation of my own image in the glass;
though I never could derive any consolation from such a study.

I could discover no beauty in those marked features,
that pale hollow cheek,
and ordinary dark brown hair;
there might be intellect in the forehead,
there might be expression in the dark grey eyes,
but what of that?

- a low Grecian brow,
and large black eyes devoid of sentiment would be esteemed far preferable.

It is foolish
to wish
for beauty.

Sensible people never either desire it
for themselves or care about it in others.

If the mind be but well cultivated,
and the heart well disposed,
no one ever cares
for the exterior.

So said the teachers of our childhood;
and so say we
to the children of the present day.

All very judicious and proper,
no doubt;
but are such assertions supported by actual experience?
We are naturally disposed
to love what gives us pleasure,
and what more pleasing than a beautiful face - when we know no harm of the possessor at least?

A little girl loves her bird - Why?

Because it lives and feels;
because it is helpless and harmless?

A toad,
likewise,
lives and feels,
and is equally helpless and harmless;
but though she would not hurt a toad,
she cannot love it like the bird,

with its graceful form,
soft feathers,
and bright,
speaking eyes.

If a woman is fair and amiable,
she is praised
for both qualities,
but especially the former,
by the bulk of mankind:

if,
on the other hand,
she is disagreeable in person and character,
her plainness is commonly inveighed against as her greatest crime,
because,

to common observers,
it gives the greatest offence;
while,
if she is plain and good,
provided she is a person of retired manners and secluded life,
no one ever knows of her goodness,
except her immediate connections.

Others,
on the contrary,
are disposed
to form unfavourable opinions of her mind,
and disposition,
if it be but
to excuse themselves
for their instinctive dislike of one so unfavoured by nature;
and VISA VERSA
with her whose angel form conceals a vicious heart,
or sheds a false,
deceitful charm over defects and foibles that would not be tolerated in another.

They that have beauty,
let them be thankful
for it,
and make a good use of it,
like any other talent;
they that have it not,
let them console themselves,
and do the best they can without it:

certainly,
though liable
to be over-estimated,
it is a gift of God,
and not
to be despised.

Many will feel this who have felt that they could love,
and whose hearts tell them that they are worthy
to be loved again;
while yet they are debarred,
by the lack of this or some such seeming trifle,
from giving and receiving that happiness they seem almost made
to feel and
to impart.

As well might the humble glowworm despise that power of giving light without which the roving fly might pass her and repass her a thousand times,
and never rest beside her:

she might hear her winged darling buzzing over and around her;
he vainly seeking her,
she longing
to be found,
but
with no power
to make her presence known,
no voice
to call him,
no wings
to follow his flight;
- the fly must seek another mate,
the worm must live and die alone.Such were some of my reflections about this period.

I might go on prosing more and more,
I might dive much deeper,
and disclose other thoughts,
propose questions the reader might be puzzled
to answer,
and deduce arguments that might startle his prejudices,
or,
perhaps,
provoke his ridicule,
because he could not comprehend them;
but I forbear.Now,
therefore,
let us return
to Miss Murray.

She accompanied her mamma
to the ball on Tuesday;
of course splendidly attired,
and delighted
with her prospects and her charMs. As Ashby Park was nearly ten miles distant from Horton Lodge,
they had
to set out pretty early,
and I intended
to have spent the evening
with Nancy Brown,
whom I had not seen
for a long time;
but my kind pupil took care I should spend it neither there nor anywhere else beyond the limits of the schoolroom,
by giving me a piece of music
to copy,
which kept me closely occupied till bed-time.

About eleven next morning,
as soon as she had left her room,
she came
to tell me her news.

Sir Thomas had indeed proposed
to her at the ball;
an event which reflected great credit on her mamma's sagacity,
if not upon her skill in contrivance.

I rather incline
to the belief that she had first laid her plans,
and then predicted their success.

The offer had been accepted,
of course,
and the bridegroom elect was coming that day
to settle matters
with Mr. Murray.Rosalie was pleased
with the thoughts of becoming mistress of Ashby Park;
she was elated
with the prospect of the bridal ceremony and its attendant splendour and eclat,
the honeymoon spent abroad,
and the subsequent gaieties she expected
to enjoy in London and elsewhere;
she appeared pretty well pleased too,

for the time being,

with Sir Thomas himself,
because she had so lately seen him,
danced
with him,
and been flattered by him;
but,
after all,
she seemed
to shrink from the idea of being so soon united:

she wished the ceremony
to be delayed some months,
at least;
and I wished it too.

It seemed a horrible thing
to hurry on the inauspicious match,
and not
to give the poor creature time
to think and reason on the irrevocable step she was about
to take.

I made no pretension
to 'a mother's watchful,
anxious care,' but I was amazed and horrified at Mrs. Murray's heartlessness,
or want of thought
for the real good of her child;
and by my unheeded warnings and exhortations,
I vainly strove
to remedy the evil.

Miss Murray only laughed at what I said;
and I soon found that her reluctance
to an immediate union arose chiefly from a desire
to do what execution she could among the young gentlemen of her acquaintance,
before she was incapacitated from further mischief of the kind.

It was
for this cause that,
before confiding
to me the secret of her engagement,
she had extracted a promise that I would not mention a word on the subject
to any one.

And when I saw this,
and when I beheld her plunge more recklessly than ever in
to the depths of heartless coquetry,
I had no more pity
for her.

'Come what will,' I thought,
'she deserves it.

Sir Thomas cannot be too bad
for her;
and the sooner she is incapacitated from deceiving and injuring others the better.'
The wedding was fixed
for the first of June.

Between that and the critical ball was little more than six weeks;
but,

with Rosalie's accomplished skill and resolute exertion,
much might be done,
even within that period;
especially as Sir Thomas spent most of the interim in London;
whither he went up,
it was said,

to settle affairs
with his lawyer,
and make other preparations
for the approaching nuptials.

He endeavoured
to supply the want of his presence by a pretty constant fire of billets-doux;
but these did not attract the neighbours' attention,
and open their eyes,
as personal visits would have done;
and old Lady Ashby's haughty,
sour spirit of reserve withheld her from spreading the news,
while her indifferent health prevented her coming
to visit her future daughter-in-law;
so that,
altogether,
this affair was kept far closer than such things usually are.Rosalie would sometimes show her lover's epistles
to me,

to convince me what a kind,
devoted husband he would make.

She showed me the letters of another individual,
too,
the unfortunate Mr. Green,
who had not the courage,
or,
as she expressed it,
the 'spunk,'
to plead his cause in person,
but whom one denial would not satisfy:

he must write again and again.

He would not have done so if he could have seen the grimaces his fair idol made over his moving appeals
to her feelings,
and heard her scornful laughter,
and the opprobrious epithets she heaped upon him
for his perseverance.'Why don't you tell him,
at once,
that you are engaged?' I asked.'Oh,
I don't want him
to know that,' replied she.

'If he knew it,
his sisters and everybody would know it,
and then there would be an end of my - ahem!

And,
besides,
if I told him that,
he would think my engagement was the only obstacle,
and that I would have him if I were free;
which I could not bear that any man should think,
and he,
of all others,
at least.

Besides,
I don't care
for his letters,' she added,
contemptuously;
'he may write as often as he pleases,
and look as great a calf as he likes when I meet him;
it only amuses me.'
Meantime,
young Meltham was pretty frequent in his visits
to the house or transits past it;
and,
judging by Matilda's execrations and reproaches,
her sister paid more attention
to him than civility required;
in other words,
she carried on as animated a flirtation as the presence of her parents would admit.

She made some attempts
to bring Mr. Hatfield once more
to her feet;
but finding them unsuccessful,
she repaid his haughty indifference
with still loftier scorn,
and spoke of him
with as much disdain and detestation as she had formerly done of his curate.

But,
amid all this,
she never
for a moment lost sight of Mr. Weston.

She embraced every opportunity of meeting him,
tried every art
to fascinate him,
and pursued him
with as much perseverance as if she really loved him and no other,
and the happiness of her life depended upon eliciting a return of affection.

Such conduct was completely beyond my comprehension.

Had I seen it depicted in a novel,
I should have thought it unnatural;
had I heard it described by others,
I should have deemed it a mistake or an exaggeration;
but when I saw it
with my own eyes,
and suffered from it too,
I could only conclude that excessive vanity,
like drunkenness,
hardens the heart,
enslaves the faculties,
and perverts the feelings;
and that dogs are not the only creatures which,
when gorged
to the throat,
will yet gloat over what they cannot devour,
and grudge the smallest morsel
to a starving brother.She now became extremely beneficent
to the poor cottagers.

Her acquaintance among them was more widely extended,
her visits
to their humble dwellings were more frequent and excursive than they had ever been before.

Hereby,
she earned among them the reputation of a condescending and very charitable young lady;
and their encomiums were sure
to be repeated
to Mr. Weston:

whom also she had thus a daily chance of meeting in one or other of their abodes,
or in her transits
to and fro;
and often,
likewise,
she could gather,
through their gossip,

to what places he was likely
to go at such and such a time,
whether
to baptize a child,
or
to visit the aged,
the sick,
the sad,
or the dying;
and most skilfully she laid her plans accordingly.

In these excursions she would sometimes go
with her sister - whom,
by some means,
she had persuaded or bribed
to enter in
to her schemes - sometimes alone,
never,
now,

with me;
so that I was debarred the pleasure of seeing Mr. Weston,
or hearing his voice even in conversation
with another:

which would certainly have been a very great pleasure,
however hurtful or however fraught
with pain.

I could not even see him at church:


for Miss Murray,
under some trivial pretext,
chose
to take possession of that corner in the family pew which had been mine ever since I came;
and,
unless I had the presumption
to station myself between Mr. and Mrs. Murray,
I must sit
with my back
to the pulpit,
which I accordingly did.Now,
also,
I never walked home
with my pupils:

they said their mamma thought it did not look well
to see three people out of the family walking,
and only two going in the carriage;
and,
as they greatly preferred walking in fine weather,
I should be honoured by going
with the seniors.

'And besides,' said they,
'you can't walk as fast as we do;
you know you're always lagging behind.' I knew these were false excuses,
but I made no objections,
and never contradicted such assertions,
well knowing the motives which dictated them.

And in the afternoons,
during those six memorable weeks,
I never went
to church at all.

If I had a cold,
or any slight indisposition,
they took advantage of that
to make me stay at home;
and often they would tell me they were not going again that day,
themselves,
and then pretend
to change their minds,
and set off without telling me:

so managing their departure that I never discovered the change of purpose till too late.

Upon their return home,
on one of these occasions,
they entertained me
with an animated account of a conversation they had had
with Mr. Weston as they came along.

'And he asked if you were ill,
Miss Grey,' said Matilda;
'but we told him you were quite well,
only you didn't want
to come
to church - so he'll think you're turned wicked.'
All chance meetings on week-days were likewise carefully prevented;
for,
lest I should go
to see poor Nancy Brown or any other person,
Miss Murray took good care
to provide sufficient employment
for all my leisure hours.

There was always some drawing
to finish,
some music
to copy,
or some work
to do,
sufficient
to incapacitate me from indulging in anything beyond a short walk about the grounds,
however she or her sister might be occupied.One morning,
having sought and waylaid Mr. Weston,
they returned in high glee
to give me an account of their interview.

'And he asked after you again,' said Matilda,
in spite of her sister's silent but imperative intimation that she should hold her tongue.

'He wondered why you were never
with us,
and thought you must have delicate health,
as you came out so seldom.'
'He didn't Matilda - what nonsense you're talking!'
'Oh,
Rosalie,
what a lie!

He did,
you know;
and you said - Don't,
Rosalie - hang it!

- I won't be pinched so!

And,
Miss Grey,
Rosalie told him you were quite well,
but you were always so buried in your books that you had no pleasure in anything else.'
'What an idea he must have of me!' I thought.'And,' I asked,
'does old Nancy ever inquire about me?'
'Yes;
and we tell her you are so fond of reading and drawing that you can do nothing else.'
'That is not the case though;
if you had told her I was so busy I could not come
to see her,
it would have been nearer the truth.'
'I don't think it would,' replied Miss Murray,
suddenly kindling up;
'I'm sure you have plenty of time
to yourself now,
when you have so little teaching
to do.'
It was no use beginning
to dispute
with such indulged,
unreasoning creatures:

so I held my peace.

I was accustomed,
now,

to keeping silence when things distasteful
to my ear were uttered;
and now,
too,
I was used
to wearing a placid smiling countenance when my heart was bitter within me.

Only those who have felt the like can imagine my feelings,
as I sat
with an assumption of smiling indifference,
listening
to the accounts of those meetings and interviews
with Mr. Weston,
which they seemed
to find such pleasure in describing
to me;
and hearing things asserted of him which,
from the character of the man,
I knew
to be exaggerations and perversions of the truth,
if not entirely false - things derogatory
to him,
and flattering
to them - especially
to Miss Murray - which I burned
to contradict,
or,
at least,

to show my doubts about,
but dared not;
lest,
in expressing my disbelief,
I should display my interest too.

Other things I heard,
which I felt or feared were indeed too true:

but I must still conceal my anxiety respecting him,
my indignation against them,
beneath a careless aspect;
others,
again,
mere hints of something said or done,
which I longed
to hear more of,
but could not venture
to inquire.

So passed the weary time.

I could not even comfort myself
with saying,
'She will soon be married;
and then there may be hope.'
Soon after her marriage the holidays would come;
and when I returned from home,
most likely,
Mr. Weston would be gone,

for I was told that he and the Rector could not agree (the Rector's fault,
of course),
and he was about
to remove
to another place.No - besides my hope in God,
my only consolation was in thinking that,
though he know it not,
I was more worthy of his love than Rosalie Murray,
charming and engaging as she was;

for I could appreciate his excellence,
which she could not:

I would devote my life
to the promotion of his happiness;
she would destroy his happiness
for the momentary gratification of her own vanity.

'Oh,
if he could but know the difference!' I would earnestly exclaim.

'But no!

I would not have him see my heart:

yet,
if he could but know her hollowness,
her worthless,
heartless frivolity,
he would then be safe,
and I should be - ALMOST happy,
though I might never see him more!'
I fear,
by this time,
the reader is well nigh disgusted
with the folly and weakness I have so freely laid before him.

I never disclosed it then,
and would not have done so had my own sister or my mother been
with me in the house.

I was a close and resolute dissembler - in this one case at least.

My prayers,
my tears,
my wishes,
fears,
and lamentations,
were witnessed by myself and heaven alone.When we are harassed by sorrows or anxieties,
or long oppressed by any powerful feelings which we must keep
to ourselves,

for which we can obtain and seek no sympathy from any living creature,
and which yet we cannot,
or will not wholly crush,
we often naturally seek relief in poetry - and often find it,
too - whether in the effusions of others,
which seem
to harmonize
with our existing case,
or in our own attempts
to give utterance
to those thoughts and feelings in strains less musical,
perchance,
but more appropriate,
and therefore more penetrating and sympathetic,
and,

for the time,
more soothing,
or more powerful
to rouse and
to unburden the oppressed and swollen heart.

Before this time,
at Wellwood House and here,
when suffering from home-sick melancholy,
I had sought relief twice or thrice at this secret source of consolation;
and now I flew
to it again,

with greater avidity than ever,
because I seemed
to need it more.

I still preserve those relics of past sufferings and experience,
like pillars of witness set up in travelling through the vale of life,

to mark particular occurrences.

The footsteps are obliterated now;
the face of the country may be changed;
but the pillar is still there,

to remind me how all things were when it was reared.

Lest the reader should be curious
to see any of these effusions,
I will favour him
with one short specimen:

cold and languid as the lines may seem,
it was almost a passion of grief
to which they owed their being:-
Oh,
they have robbed me of the hope My spirit held so dear;
They will not let me hear that voice My soul delights
to hear.They will not let me see that face I so delight
to see;
And they have taken all thy smiles,
And all thy love from me.Well,
let them seize on all they can;
- One treasure still is mine,
- A heart that loves
to think on thee,
And feels the worth of thine.

Yes,
at least,
they could not deprive me of that:

I could think of him day and night;
and I could feel that he was worthy
to be thought of.

Nobody knew him as I did;
nobody could appreciate him as I did;
nobody could love him as I - could,
if I might:

but there was the evil.

What business had I
to think so much of one that never thought of me?

Was it not foolish?

was it not wrong?

Yet,
if I found such deep delight in thinking of him,
and if I kept those thoughts
to myself,
and troubled no one else
with them,
where was the harm of it?

I would ask myself.

And such reasoning prevented me from making any sufficient effort
to shake off my fetters.But,
if those thoughts brought delight,
it was a painful,
troubled pleasure,
too near akin
to anguish;
and one that did me more injury than I was aware of.

It was an indulgence that a person of more wisdom or more experience would doubtless have denied herself.

And yet,
how dreary
to turn my eyes from the contemplation of that bright object and force them
to dwell on the dull,
grey,
desolate prospect around:

the joyless,
hopeless,
solitary path that lay before me.

It was wrong
to be so joyless,
so desponding;
I should have made God my friend,
and
to do His will the pleasure and the business of my life;
but faith was weak,
and passion was too strong.In this time of trouble I had two other causes of affliction.

The first may seem a trifle,
but it cost me many a tear:

Snap,
my little dumb,
rough-visaged,
but bright-eyed,
warm-hearted companion,
the only thing I had
to love me,
was taken away,
and delivered over
to the tender mercies of the village rat-catcher,
a man notorious
for his brutal treatment of his canine slaves.

The other was serious enough;
my letters from home gave intimation that my father's health was worse.

No boding fears were expressed,
but I was grown timid and despondent,
and could not help fearing that some dreadful calamity awaited us there.

I seemed
to see the black clouds gathering round my native hills,
and
to hear the angry muttering of a storm that was about
to burst,
and desolate our hearth.


CHAPTER XVIII - MIRTH AND MOURNING
THE 1st of June arrived at last:

and Rosalie Murray was transmuted in
to Lady Ashby.

Most splendidly beautiful she looked in her bridal costume.

Upon her return from church,
after the ceremony,
she came flying in
to the schoolroom,
flushed
with excitement,
and laughing,
half in mirth,
and half in reckless desperation,
as it seemed
to me.'Now,
Miss Grey,
I'm Lady Ashby!' she exclaimed.

'It's done,
my fate is sealed:

there's no drawing back now.

I'm come
to receive your congratulations and bid you good-by;
and then I'm off
for Paris,
Rome,
Naples,
Switzerland,
London - oh,
dear!

what a deal I shall see and hear before I come back again.

But don't forget me:

I shan't forget you,
though I've been a naughty girl.

Come,
why don't you congratulate me?'
'I cannot congratulate you,' I replied,
'till I know whether this change is really
for the better:

but I sincerely hope it is;
and I wish you true happiness and the best of blessings.'
'Well,
good-by,
the carriage is waiting,
and they're calling me.'
She gave me a hasty kiss,
and was hurrying away;
but,
suddenly returning,
embraced me
with more affection than I thought her capable of evincing,
and departed
with tears in her eyes.

Poor girl!

I really loved her then;
and forgave her from my heart all the injury she had done me - and others also:

she had not half known it,
I was sure;
and I prayed God
to pardon her too.During the remainder of that day of festal sadness,
I was left
to my own devices.

Being too much unhinged
for any steady occupation,
I wandered about
with a book in my hand
for several hours,
more thinking than reading,

for I had many things
to think about.

In the evening,
I made use of my liberty
to go and see my old friend Nancy once again;

to apologize
for my long absence (which must have seemed so neglectful and unkind) by telling her how busy I had been;
and
to talk,
or read,
or work
for her,
whichever might be most acceptable,
and also,
of course,

to tell her the news of this important day:

and perhaps
to obtain a little information from her in return,
respecting Mr. Weston's expected departure.

But of this she seemed
to know nothing,
and I hoped,
as she did,
that it was all a false report.

She was very glad
to see me;
but,
happily,
her eyes were now so nearly well that she was almost independent of my services.

She was deeply interested in the wedding;
but while I amused her
with the details of the festive day,
the splendours of the bridal party and of the bride herself,
she often sighed and shook her head,
and wished good might come of it;
she seemed,
like me,

to regard it rather as a theme
for sorrow than rejoicing.

I sat a long time talking
to her about that and other things - but no one came.Shall I confess that I sometimes looked towards the door
with a half-expectant wish
to see it open and give entrance
to Mr. Weston,
as had happened once before?

and that,
returning through the lanes and fields,
I often paused
to look round me,
and walked more slowly than was at all necessary - for,
though a fine evening,
it was not a hot one - and,
finally,
felt a sense of emptiness and disappointment at having reached the house without meeting or even catching a distant glimpse of any one,
except a few labourers returning from their work?
Sunday,
however,
was approaching:

I should see him then:


for now that Miss Murray was gone,
I could have my old corner again.

I should see him,
and by look,
speech,
and manner,
I might judge whether the circumstance of her marriage had very much afflicted him.

Happily I could perceive no shadow of a difference:

he wore the same aspect as he had worn two months ago - voice,
look,
manner,
all alike unchanged:

there was the same keen-sighted,
unclouded truthfulness in his discourse,
the same forcible clearness in his style,
the same earnest simplicity in all he said and did,
that made itself,
not marked by the eye and ear,
but felt upon the hearts of his audience.I walked home
with Miss Matilda;
but HE DID NOT JOIN US.

Matilda was now sadly at a loss
for amusement,
and wofully in want of a companion:

her brothers at school,
her sister married and gone,
she too young
to be admitted in
to society;

for which,
from Rosalie's example,
she was in some degree beginning
to acquire a taste - a taste at least
for the company of certain classes of gentlemen;
at this dull time of year - no hunting going on,
no shooting even - for,
though she might not join in that,
it was SOMETHING
to see her father or the gamekeeper go out
with the dogs,
and
to talk
with them on their return,
about the different birds they had bagged.

Now,
also,
she was denied the solace which the companionship of the coachman,
grooms,
horses,
greyhounds,
and pointers might have afforded;

for her mother having,
notwithstanding the disadvantages of a country life,
so satisfactorily disposed of her elder daughter,
the pride of her heart had begun seriously
to turn her attention
to the younger;
and,
being truly alarmed at the roughness of her manners,
and thinking it high time
to work a reform,
had been roused at length
to exert her authority,
and prohibited entirely the yards,
stables,
kennels,
and coachhouse.

Of course,
she was not implicitly obeyed;
but,
indulgent as she had hither
to been,
when once her spirit was roused,
her temper was not so gentle as she required that of her governesses
to be,
and her will was not
to be thwarted
with impunity.

After many a scene of contention between mother and daughter,
many a violent outbreak which I was ashamed
to witness,
in which the father's authority was often called in
to confirm
with oaths and threats the mother's slighted prohibitions -
for even HE could see that 'Tilly,
though she would have made a fine lad,
was not quite what a young lady ought
to be' - Matilda at length found that her easiest plan was
to keep clear of the forbidden regions;
unless she could now and then steal a visit without her watchful mother's knowledge.Amid all this,
let it not be imagined that I escaped without many a reprimand,
and many an implied reproach,
that lost none of its sting from not being openly worded;
but rather wounded the more deeply,
because,
from that very reason,
it seemed
to preclude self- defence.

Frequently,
I was told
to amuse Miss Matilda
with other things,
and
to remind her of her mother's precepts and prohibitions.

I did so
to the best of my power:

but she would not be amused against her will,
and could not against her taste;
and though I went beyond mere reminding,
such gentle remonstrances as I could use were utterly ineffectual.'DEAR Miss Grey!

it is the STRANGEST thing.

I suppose you can't help it,
if it's not in your nature - but I WONDER you can't win the confidence of that girl,
and make your society at LEAST as agreeable
to her as that of Robert or Joseph!'
'They can talk the best about the things in which she is most interested,' I replied.'Well!

that is a strange confession,
HOWEVER,

to come from her GOVERNESS!

Who is
to form a young lady's tastes,
I wonder,
if the governess doesn't do it?

I have known governesses who have so completely identified themselves
with the reputation of their young ladies
for elegance and propriety in mind and manners,
that they would blush
to speak a word against them;
and
to hear the slightest blame imputed
to their pupils was worse than
to be censured in their own persons - and I really think it very natural,

for my part.'
'Do you,
ma'am?'
'Yes,
of course:

the young lady's proficiency and elegance is of more consequence
to the governess than her own,
as well as
to the world.

If she wishes
to prosper in her vocation she must devote all her energies
to her business:

all her ideas and all her ambition will tend
to the accomplishment of that one object.

When we wish
to decide upon the merits of a governess,
we naturally look at the young ladies she professes
to have educated,
and judge accordingly.

The JUDICIOUS governess knows this:

she knows that,
while she lives in obscurity herself,
her pupils' virtues and defects will be open
to every eye;
and that,
unless she loses sight of herself in their cultivation,
she need not hope
for success.

You see,
Miss Grey,
it is just the same as any other trade or profession:

they that wish
to prosper must devote themselves body and soul
to their calling;
and if they begin
to yield
to indolence or self-indulgence they are speedily distanced by wiser competitors:

there is little
to choose between a person that ruins her pupils by neglect,
and one that corrupts them by her example.

You will excuse my dropping these little hints:

you know it is all
for your own good.

Many ladies would speak
to you much more strongly;
and many would not trouble themselves
to speak at all,
but quietly look out
for a substitute.

That,
of course,
would be the EASIEST plan:

but I know the advantages of a place like this
to a person in your situation;
and I have no desire
to part
with you,
as I am sure you would do very well if you will only think of these things and try
to exert yourself a LITTLE more:

then,
I am convinced,
you would SOON acquire that delicate tact which alone is wanting
to give you a proper influence over the mind of your pupil.'
I was about
to give the lady some idea of the fallacy of her expectations;
but she sailed away as soon as she had concluded her speech.

Having said what she wished,
it was no part of her plan
to await my answer:

it was my business
to hear,
and not
to speak.However,
as I have said,
Matilda at length yielded in some degree
to her mother's authority (pity it had not been exerted before);
and being thus deprived of almost every source of amusement,
there was nothing
for it but
to take long rides
with the groom and long walks
with the governess,
and
to visit the cottages and farmhouses on her father's estate,

to kill time in chatting
with the old men and women that inhabited them.

In one of these walks,
it was our chance
to meet Mr. Weston.

This was what I had long desired;
but now,

for a moment,
I wished either he or I were away:

I felt my heart throb so violently that I dreaded lest some outward signs of emotion should appear;
but I think he hardly glanced at me,
and I was soon calm enough.

After a brief salutation
to both,
he asked Matilda if she had lately heard from her sister.'Yes,' replied she.

'She was at Paris when she wrote,
and very well,
and very happy.'
She spoke the last word emphatically,
and
with a glance impertinently sly.

He did not seem
to notice it,
but replied,

with equal emphasis,
and very seriously -
'I hope she will continue
to be so.'
'Do you think it likely?' I ventured
to inquire:


for Matilda had started off in pursuit of her dog,
that was chasing a leveret.'I cannot tell,' replied he.

'Sir Thomas may be a better man than I suppose;
but,
from all I have heard and seen,
it seems a pity that one so young and gay,
and - and interesting,

to express many things by one word - whose greatest,
if not her only fault,
appears
to be thoughtlessness - no trifling fault
to be sure,
since it renders the possessor liable
to almost every other,
and exposes him
to so many temptations - but it seems a pity that she should be thrown away on such a man.

It was her mother's wish,
I suppose?'
'Yes;
and her own too,
I think,

for she always laughed at my attempts
to dissuade her from the step.'
'You did attempt it?

Then,
at least,
you will have the satisfaction of knowing that it is no fault of yours,
if any harm should come of it.

As
for Mrs. Murray,
I don't know how she can justify her conduct:

if I had sufficient acquaintance
with her,
I'd ask her.'
'It seems unnatural:

but some people think rank and wealth the chief good;
and,
if they can secure that
for their children,
they think they have done their duty.'
'True:

but is it not strange that persons of experience,
who have been married themselves,
should judge so falsely?' Matilda now came panting back,

with the lacerated body of the young hare in her hand.'Was it your intention
to kill that hare,
or
to save it,
Miss Murray?' asked Mr. Weston,
apparently puzzled at her gleeful countenance.'I pretended
to want
to save it,' she answered,
honestly enough,
'as it was so glaringly out of season;
but I was better pleased
to see it lolled.

However,
you can both witness that I couldn't help it:

Prince was determined
to have her;
and he clutched her by the back,
and killed her in a minute!

Wasn't it a noble chase?'
'Very!


for a young lady after a leveret.'
There was a quiet sarcasm in the tone of his reply which was not lost upon her;
she shrugged her shoulders,
and,
turning away
with a significant 'Humph!' asked me how I had enjoyed the fun.

I replied that I saw no fun in the matter;
but admitted that I had not observed the transaction very narrowly.'Didn't you see how it doubled - just like an old hare?

and didn't you hear it scream?'
'I'm happy
to say I did not.'
'It cried out just like a child.'
'Poor little thing!

What will you do
with it?'
'Come along - I shall leave it in the first house we come to.

I don't want
to take it home,

for fear papa should scold me
for letting the dog kill it.'
Mr. Weston was now gone,
and we too went on our way;
but as we returned,
after having deposited the hare in a farm-house,
and demolished some spice-cake and currant-wine in exchange,
we met him returning also from the execution of his mission,
whatever it might be.

He carried in his hand a cluster of beautiful bluebells,
which he offered
to me;
observing,

with a smile,
that though he had seen so little of me
for the last two months,
he had not forgotten that blue-bells were numbered among my favourite flowers.

It was done as a simple act of goodwill,
without compliment or remarkable courtesy,
or any look that could be construed in
to 'reverential,
tender adoration' (VIDE Rosalie Murray);
but still,
it was something
to find my unimportant saying so well remembered:

it was something that he had noticed so accurately the time I had ceased
to be visible.'I was told,' said he,
'that you were a perfect bookworm,
Miss Grey:

so completely absorbed in your studies that you were lost
to every other pleasure.'
'Yes,
and it's quite true!' cried Matilda.'No,
Mr. Weston:

don't believe it:

it's a scandalous libel.

These young ladies are too fond of making random assertions at the expense of their friends;
and you ought
to be careful how you listen
to them.'
'I hope THIS assertion is groundless,
at any rate.'
'Why?

Do you particularly object
to ladies studying?'
'No;
but I object
to anyone so devoting himself or herself
to study,
as
to lose sight of everything else.

Except under peculiar circumstances,
I consider very close and constant study as a waste of time,
and an injury
to the mind as well as the body.'
'Well,
I have neither the time nor the inclination
for such transgressions.'
We parted again.Well!

what is there remarkable in all this?

Why have I recorded it?

Because,
reader,
it was important enough
to give me a cheerful evening,
a night of pleasing dreams,
and a morning of felicitous hopes.

Shallow-brained cheerfulness,
foolish dreams,
unfounded hopes,
you would say;
and I will not venture
to deny it:

suspicions
to that effect arose too frequently in my own mind.

But our wishes are like tinder:

the flint and steel of circumstances are continually striking out sparks,
which vanish immediately,
unless they chance
to fall upon the tinder of our wishes;
then,
they instantly ignite,
and the flame of hope is kindled in a moment.But alas!

that very morning,
my flickering flame of hope was dismally quenched by a letter from my mother,
which spoke so seriously of my father's increasing illness,
that I feared there was little or no chance of his recovery;
and,
close at hand as the holidays were,
I almost trembled lest they should come too late
for me
to meet him in this world.

Two days after,
a letter from Mary told me his life was despaired of,
and his end seemed fast approaching.

Then,
immediately,
I sought permission
to anticipate the vacation,
and go without delay.

Mrs. Murray stared,
and wondered at the unwonted energy and boldness
with which I urged the request,
and thought there was no occasion
to hurry;
but finally gave me leave:

stating,
however,
that there was 'no need
to be in such agitation about the matter - it might prove a false alarm after all;
and if not - why,
it was only in the common course of nature:

we must all die some time;
and I was not
to suppose myself the only afflicted person in the world;' and concluding
with saying I might have the phaeton
to take me
to O-.

'And instead of REPINING,
Miss Grey,
be thankful
for the PRIVILEGES you enjoy.

There's many a poor clergyman whose family would be plunged in
to ruin by the event of his death;
but you,
you see,
have influential friends ready
to continue their patronage,
and
to show you every consideration.'
I thanked her
for her 'consideration,' and flew
to my room
to make some hurried preparations
for my departure.

My bonnet and shawl being on,
and a few things hastily crammed in
to my largest trunk,
I descended.

But I might have done the work more leisurely,

for no one else was in a hurry;
and I had still a considerable time
to wait
for the phaeton.

At length it came
to the door,
and I was off:

but,
oh,
what a dreary journey was that!

how utterly different from my former passages homewards!

Being too late
for the last coach
to -,
I had
to hire a cab
for ten miles,
and then a car
to take me over the rugged hills.It was half-past ten before I reached home.

They were not in bed.My mother and sister both met me in the passage - sad - silent - pale!

I was so much shocked and terror-stricken that I could not speak,

to ask the information I so much longed yet dreaded
to obtain.'Agnes!' said my mother,
struggling
to repress some strong emotion.'Oh,
Agnes!' cried Mary,
and burst in
to tears.'How is he?' I asked,
gasping
for the answer.'Dead!'
It was the reply I had anticipated:

but the shock seemed none the less tremendous.


CHAPTER XIX - THE LETTER
MY father's mortal remains had been consigned
to the tomb;
and we,

with sad faces and sombre garments,
sat lingering over the frugal breakfast-table,
revolving plans
for our future life.

My mother's strong mind had not given way beneath even this affliction:

her spirit,
though crushed,
was not broken.

Mary's wish was that I should go back
to Horton Lodge,
and that our mother should come and live
with her and Mr. Richardson at the vicarage:

she affirmed that he wished it no less than herself,
and that such an arrangement could not fail
to benefit all parties;

for my mother's society and experience would be of inestimable value
to them,
and they would do all they could
to make her happy.

But no arguments or entreaties could prevail:

my mother was determined not
to go.

Not that she questioned,

for a moment,
the kind wishes and intentions of her daughter;
but she affirmed that so long as God spared her health and strength,
she would make use of them
to earn her own livelihood,
and be chargeable
to no one;
whether her dependence would be felt as a burden or not.

If she could afford
to reside as a lodger in - vicarage,
she would choose that house before all others as the place of her abode;
but not being so circumstanced,
she would never come under its roof,
except as an occasional visitor:

unless sickness or calamity should render her assistance really needful,
or until age or infirmity made her incapable of maintaining herself.'No,
Mary,' said she,
'if Richardson and you have anything
to spare,
you must lay it aside
for your family;
and Agnes and I must gather honey
for ourselves.

Thanks
to my having had daughters
to educate,
I have not forgotten my accomplishments.

God willing,
I will check this vain repining,' she said,
while the tears coursed one another down her cheeks in spite of her efforts;
but she wiped them away,
and resolutely shaking back her head,
continued,
'I will exert myself,
and look out
for a small house,
commodiously situated in some populous but healthy district,
where we will take a few young ladies
to board and educate - if we can get them - and as many day pupils as will come,
or as we can manage
to instruct.

Your father's relations and old friends will be able
to send us some pupils,
or
to assist us
with their recommendations,
no doubt:

I shall not apply
to my own.

What say you
to it,
Agnes?

will you be willing
to leave your present situation and try?'
'Quite willing,
mamma;
and the money I have saved will do
to furnish the house.

It shall be taken from the bank directly.'
'When it is wanted:

we must get the house,
and settle on preliminaries first.'
Mary offered
to lend the little she possessed;
but my mother declined it,
saying that we must begin on an economical plan;
and she hoped that the whole or part of mine,
added
to what we could get by the sale of the furniture,
and what little our dear papa had contrived
to lay aside
for her since the debts were paid,
would be sufficient
to last us till Christmas;
when,
it was hoped,
something would accrue from our united labours.

It was finally settled that this should be our plan;
and that inquiries and preparations should immediately be set on foot;
and while my mother busied herself
with these,
I should return
to Horton Lodge at the close of my four weeks' vacation,
and give notice
for my final departure when things were in train
for the speedy commencement of our school.We were discussing these affairs on the morning I have mentioned,
about a fortnight after my father's death,
when a letter was brought in
for my mother,
on beholding which the colour mounted
to her face - lately pale enough
with anxious watchings and excessive sorrow.

'From my father!' murmured she,
as she hastily tore off the cover.

It was many years since she had heard from any of her own relations before.

Naturally wondering what the letter might contain,
I watched her countenance while she read it,
and was somewhat surprised
to see her bite her lip and knit her brows as if in anger.

When she had done,
she somewhat irreverently cast it on the table,
saying
with a scornful smile,
- 'Your grandpapa has been so kind as
to write
to me.

He says he has no doubt I have long repented of my "unfortunate marriage," and if I will only acknowledge this,
and confess I was wrong in neglecting his advice,
and that I have justly suffered
for it,
he will make a lady of me once again - if that be possible after my long degradation - and remember my girls in his will.

Get my desk,
Agnes,
and send these things away:

I will answer the letter directly.

But first,
as I may be depriving you both of a legacy,
it is just that I should tell you what I mean
to say.

I shall say that he is mistaken in supposing that I can regret the birth of my daughters (who have been the pride of my life,
and are likely
to be the comfort of my old age),
or the thirty years I have passed in the company of my best and dearest friend;
- that,
had our misfortunes been three times as great as they were (unless they had been of my bringing on),
I should still the more rejoice
to have shared them
with your father,
and administered what consolation I was able;
and,
had his sufferings in illness been ten times what they wore,
I could not regret having watched over and laboured
to relieve them;
- that,
if he had married a richer wife,
misfortunes and trials would no doubt have come upon him still;
while I am egotist enough
to imagine that no other woman could have cheered him through them so well:

not that I am superior
to the rest,
but I was made
for him,
and he
for me;
and I can no more repent the hours,
days,
years of happiness we have spent together,
and which neither could have had without the other,
than I can the privilege of having been his nurse in sickness,
and his comfort in affliction.'Will this do,
children?

- or shall I say we are all very sorry
for what has happened during the last thirty years,
and my daughters wish they had never been born;
but since they have had that misfortune,
they will be thankful
for any trifle their grandpapa will be kind enough
to bestow?'
Of course,
we both applauded our mother's resolution;
Mary cleared away the breakfast things;
I brought the desk;
the letter was quickly written and despatched;
and,
from that day,
we heard no more of our grandfather,
till we saw his death announced in the newspaper a considerable time after - all his worldly possessions,
of course,
being left
to our wealthy unknown cousins.


CHAPTER XX - THE FAREWELL
A HOUSE in A-,
the fashionable watering-place,
was hired
for our seminary;
and a promise of two or three pupils was obtained
to commence with.

I returned
to Horton Lodge about the middle of July,
leaving my mother
to conclude the bargain
for the house,

to obtain more pupils,

to sell off the furniture of our old abode,
and
to fit out the new one.We often pity the poor,
because they have no leisure
to mourn their departed relatives,
and necessity obliges them
to labour through their severest afflictions:

but is not active employment the best remedy
for overwhelming sorrow - the surest antidote
for despair?

It may be a rough comforter:

it may seem hard
to be harassed
with the cares of life when we have no relish
for its enjoyments;

to be goaded
to labour when the heart is ready
to break,
and the vexed spirit implores
for rest only
to weep in silence:

but is not labour better than the rest we covet?

and are not those petty,
tormenting cares less hurtful than a continual brooding over the great affliction that oppresses us?

Besides,
we cannot have cares,
and anxieties,
and toil,
without hope - if it be but the hope of fulfilling our joyless task,
accomplishing some needful project,
or escaping some further annoyance.

At any rate,
I was glad my mother had so much employment
for every faculty of her action-loving frame.

Our kind neighbours lamented that she,
once so exalted in wealth and station,
should be reduced
to such extremity in her time of sorrow;
but I am persuaded that she would have suffered thrice as much had she been left in affluence,

with liberty
to remain in that house,
the scene of her early happiness and late affliction,
and no stern necessity
to prevent her from incessantly brooding over and lamenting her bereavement.I will not dilate upon the feelings
with which I left the old house,
the well-known garden,
the little village church - then doubly dear
to me,
because my father,
who,

for thirty years,
had taught and prayed within its walls,
lay slumbering now beneath its flags - and the old bare hills,
delightful in their very desolation,

with the narrow vales between,
smiling in green wood and sparkling water - the house where I was born,
the scene of all my early associations,
the place where throughout life my earthly affections had been centred;
- and left them
to return no more!

True,
I was going back
to Horton Lodge,
where,
amid many evils,
one source of pleasure yet remained:

but it was pleasure mingled
with excessive pain;
and my stay,
alas!

was limited
to six weeks.

And even of that precious time,
day after day slipped by and I did not see him:

except at church,
I never saw him
for a fortnight after my return.

It seemed a long time
to me:

and,
as I was often out
with my rambling pupil,
of course hopes would keep rising,
and disappointments would ensue;
and then,
I would say
to my own heart,
'Here is a convincing proof - if you would but have the sense
to see it,
or the candour
to acknowledge it - that he does not care
for you.

If he only thought HALF as much about you as you do about him,
he would have contrived
to meet you many times ere this:

you must know that,
by consulting your own feelings.

Therefore,
have done
with this nonsense:

you have no ground
for hope:

dismiss,
at once,
these hurtful thoughts and foolish wishes from your mind,
and turn
to your own duty,
and the dull blank life that lies before you.

You might have known such happiness was not
for you.'
But I saw him at last.

He came suddenly upon me as I was crossing a field in returning from a visit
to Nancy Brown,
which I had taken the opportunity of paying while Matilda Murray was riding her matchless mare.

He must have heard of the heavy loss I had sustained:

he expressed no sympathy,
offered no condolence:

but almost the first words he uttered were,
- 'How is your mother?' And this was no matter-of -course question,

for I never told him that I had a mother:

he must have learned the fact from others,
if he knew it at all;
and,
besides,
there was sincere goodwill,
and even deep,
touching,
unobtrusive sympathy in the tone and manner of the inquiry.

I thanked him
with due civility,
and told him she was as well as could be expected.

'What will she do?' was the next question.

Many would have deemed it an impertinent one,
and given an evasive reply;
but such an idea never entered my head,
and I gave a brief but plain statement of my mother's plans and prospects.'Then you will leave this place shortly?' said he.'Yes,
in a month.'
He paused a minute,
as if in thought.

When he spoke again,
I hoped it would be
to express his concern at my departure;
but it was only
to say,
- 'I should think you will be willing enough
to go?'
'Yes -
for some things,' I replied.'
for SOME things only - I wonder what should make you regret it?'
I was annoyed at this in some degree;
because it embarrassed me:

I had only one reason
for regretting it;
and that was a profound secret,
which he had no business
to trouble me about.'Why,' said I - 'why should you suppose that I dislike the place?'
'You told me so yourself,' was the decisive reply.

'You said,
at least,
that you could not live contentedly,
without a friend;
and that you had no friend here,
and no possibility of making one - and,
besides,
I know you MUST dislike it.'
'But if you remember rightly,
I said,
or meant
to say,
I could not live contentedly without a friend in the world:

I was not so unreasonable as
to require one always near me.

I think I could be happy in a house full of enemies,
if - ' but no;
that sentence must not be continued - I paused,
and hastily added,
- 'And,
besides,
we cannot well leave a place where we have lived
for two or three years,
without some feeling of regret.'
'Will you regret
to part
with Miss Murray,
your sole remaining pupil and companion?'
'I dare say I shall in some degree:

it was not without sorrow I parted
with her sister.'
'I can imagine that.'
'Well,
Miss Matilda is quite as good - better in one respect.'
'What is that?'
'She's honest.'
'And the other is not?'
'I should not call her DIShonest;
but it must be confessed she's a little artful.'
'ARTFUL is she?

- I saw she was giddy and vain - and now,' he added,
after a pause,
'I can well believe she was artful too;
but so excessively so as
to assume an aspect of extreme simplicity and unguarded openness.

Yes,' continued he,
musingly,
'that accounts
for some little things that puzzled me a trifle before.'
After that,
he turned the conversation
to more general subjects.

He did not leave me till we had nearly reached the park-gates:

he had certainly stepped a little out of his way
to accompany me so far,

for he now went back and disappeared down Moss Lane,
the entrance of which we had passed some time before.

Assuredly I did not regret this circumstance:

if sorrow had any place in my heart,
it was that he was gone at last - that he was no longer walking by my side,
and that that short interval of delightful intercourse was at an end.

He had not breathed a word of love,
or dropped one hint of tenderness or affection,
and yet I had been supremely happy.


to be near him,

to hear him talk as he did talk,
and
to feel that he thought me worthy
to be so spoken
to - capable of understanding and duly appreciating such discourse - was enough.'Yes,
Edward Weston,
I could indeed be happy in a house full of enemies,
if I had but one friend,
who truly,
deeply,
and faithfully loved me;
and if that friend were you - though we might be far apart - seldom
to hear from each other,
still more seldom
to meet - though toil,
and trouble,
and vexation might surround me,
still - it would be too much happiness
for me
to dream of!

Yet who can tell,' said I within myself,
as I proceeded up the park,
- 'who can tell what this one month may bring forth?

I have lived nearly three-and-twenty years,
and I have suffered much,
and tasted little pleasure yet;
is it likely my life all through will be so clouded?

Is it not possible that God may hear my prayers,
disperse these gloomy shadows,
and grant me some beams of heaven's sunshine yet?

Will He entirely deny
to me those blessings which are so freely given
to others,
who neither ask them nor acknowledge them when received?

May I not still hope and trust?

I did hope and trust
for a while:

but,
alas,
alas!

the time ebbed away:

one week followed another,
and,
excepting one distant glimpse and two transient meetings - during which scarcely anything was said - while I was walking
with Miss Matilda,
I saw nothing of him:

except,
of course,
at church.And now,
the last Sunday was come,
and the last service.

I was often on the point of melting in
to tears during the sermon - the last I was
to hear from him:

the best I should hear from anyone,
I was well assured.

It was over - the congregation were departing;
and I must follow.

I had then seen him,
and heard his voice,
too,
probably
for the last time.

In the churchyard,
Matilda was pounced upon by the two Misses Green.

They had many inquiries
to make about her sister,
and I know not what besides.

I only wished they would have done,
that we might hasten back
to Horton Lodge:

I longed
to seek the retirement of my own room,
or some sequestered nook in the grounds,
that I might deliver myself up
to my feelings -
to weep my last farewell,
and lament my false hopes and vain delusions.

Only this once,
and then adieu
to fruitless dreaming - thenceforth,
only sober,
solid,
sad reality should occupy my mind.

But while I thus resolved,
a low voice close beside me said - 'I suppose you are going this week,
Miss Grey?' 'Yes,' I replied.

I was very much startled;
and had I been at all hysterically inclined,
I certainly should have committed myself in some way then.

Thank God,
I was not.'Well,' said Mr. Weston,
'I want
to bid you good-bye - it is not likely I shall see you again before you go.'
'Good-bye,
Mr. Weston,' I said.

Oh,
how I struggled
to say it calmly!

I gave him my hand.

He retained it a few seconds in his.'It is possible we may meet again,' said he;
'will it be of any consequence
to you whether we do or not?'
'Yes,
I should be very glad
to see you again.'
I COULD say no less.

He kindly pressed my hand,
and went.

Now,
I was happy again - though more inclined
to burst in
to tears than ever.

If I had been forced
to speak at that moment,
a succession of sobs would have inevitably ensued;
and as it was,
I could not keep the water out of my eyes.

I walked along
with Miss Murray,
turning aside my face,
and neglecting
to notice several successive remarks,
till she bawled out that I was either deaf or stupid;
and then (having recovered my self-possession),
as one awakened from a fit of abstraction,
I suddenly looked up and asked what she had been saying.


CHAPTER XXI - THE SCHOOL
I LEFT Horton Lodge,
and went
to join my mother in our new abode at A-.

I found her well in health,
resigned in spirit,
and even cheerful,
though subdued and sober,
in her general demeanour.

We had only three boarders and half a dozen day-pupils
to commence with;
but by due care and diligence we hoped ere long
to increase the number of both.I set myself
with befitting energy
to discharge the duties of this new mode of life.

I call it NEW,

for there was,
indeed,
a considerable difference between working
with my mother in a school of our own,
and working as a hireling among strangers,
despised and trampled upon by old and young;
and
for the first few weeks I was by no means unhappy.

'It is possible we may meet again,' and 'will it be of any consequence
to you whether we do or not?' - Those words still rang in my ear and rested on my heart:

they were my secret solace and support.

'I shall see him again.

- He will come;
or he will write.' No promise,
in fact,
was too bright or too extravagant
for Hope
to whisper in my ear.

I did not believe half of what she told me:

I pretended
to laugh at it all;
but I was far more credulous than I myself supposed;
otherwise,
why did my heart leap up when a knock was heard at the front door,
and the maid,
who opened it,
came
to tell my mother a gentleman wished
to see her?

and why was I out of humour
for the rest of the day,
because it proved
to be a music-master come
to offer his services
to our school?

and what stopped my breath
for a moment,
when the postman having brought a couple of letters,
my mother said,
'Here,
Agnes,
this is
for you,' and threw one of them
to me?

and what made the hot blood rush in
to my face when I saw it was directed in a gentleman's hand?

and why - oh!

why did that cold,
sickening sense of disappointment fall upon me,
when I had torn open the cover and found it was ONLY a letter from Mary,
which,

for some reason or other,
her husband had directed
for her?
Was it then come
to this - that I should be DISAPPOINTED
to receive a letter from my only sister:

and because it was not written by a comparative stranger?

Dear Mary!

and she had written it so kindly - and thinking I should be so pleased
to have it!

- I was not worthy
to read it!

And I believe,
in my indignation against myself,
I should have put it aside till I had schooled myself in
to a better frame of mind,
and was become more deserving of the honour and privilege of its perusal:

but there was my mother looking on,
and wishful
to know what news it contained;
so I read it and delivered it
to her,
and then went in
to the schoolroom
to attend
to the pupils:

but amidst the cares of copies and sums - in the intervals of correcting errors here,
and reproving derelictions of duty there,
I was inwardly taking myself
to task
with far sterner severity.

'What a fool you must be,' said my head
to my heart,
or my sterner
to my softer self;
- 'how could you ever dream that he would write
to you?

What grounds have you
for such a hope - or that he will see you,
or give himself any trouble about you - or even think of you again?' 'What grounds?' - and then Hope set before me that last,
short interview,
and repeated the words I had so faithfully treasured in my memory.

'Well,
and what was there in that?

- Who ever hung his hopes upon so frail a twig?

What was there in those words that any common acquaintance might not say
to another?

Of course,
it was possible you might meet again:

he might have said so if you had been going
to New Zealand;
but that did not imply any INTENTION of seeing you - and then,
as
to the question that followed,
anyone might ask that:

and how did you answer?

- Merely
with a stupid,
commonplace reply,
such as you would have given
to Master Murray,
or anyone else you had been on tolerably civil terms with.' 'But,
then,' persisted Hope,
'the tone and manner in which he spoke.' 'Oh,
that is nonsense!

he always speaks impressively;
and at that moment there were the Greens and Miss Matilda Murray just before,
and other people passing by,
and he was obliged
to stand close beside you,
and
to speak very low,
unless he wished everybody
to hear what he said,
which - though it was nothing at all particular - of course,
he would rather not.' But then,
above all,
that emphatic,
yet gentle pressure of the hand,
which seemed
to say,
'TRUST me;' and many other things besides - too delightful,
almost too flattering,

to be repeated even
to one's self.

'Egregious folly - too absurd
to require contradiction - mere inventions of the imagination,
which you ought
to be ashamed of.

If you would but consider your own unattractive exterior,
your unamiable reserve,
your foolish diffidence - which must make you appear cold,
dull,
awkward,
and perhaps ill-tempered too;
- if you had but rightly considered these from the beginning,
you would never have harboured such presumptuous thoughts:

and now that you have been so foolish,
pray repent and amend,
and let us have no more of it!'
I cannot say that I implicitly obeyed my own injunctions:

but such reasoning as this became more and more effective as time wore on,
and nothing was seen or heard of Mr. Weston;
until,
at last,
I gave up hoping,

for even my heart acknowledged it was all in vain.

But still,
I would think of him:

I would cherish his image in my mind;
and treasure every word,
look,
and gesture that my memory could retain;
and brood over his excellences and his peculiarities,
and,
in fact,
all I had seen,
heard,
or imagined respecting him.'Agnes,
this sea air and change of scene do you no good,
I think:

I never saw you look so wretched.

It must be that you sit too much,
and allow the cares of the schoolroom
to worry you.

You must learn
to take things easy,
and
to be more active and cheerful;
you must take exercise whenever you can get it,
and leave the most tiresome duties
to me:

they will only serve
to exercise my patience,
and,
perhaps,
try my temper a little.'
So said my mother,
as we sat at work one morning during the Easter holidays.

I assured her that my employments were not at all oppressive;
that I was well;
or,
if there was anything amiss,
it would be gone as soon as the trying months of spring were over:

when summer came I should be as strong and hearty as she could wish
to see me:

but inwardly her observation startled me.

I knew my strength was declining,
my appetite had failed,
and I was grown listless and desponding;
- and if,
indeed,
he could never care
for me,
and I could never see him more - if I was forbidden
to minister
to his happiness - forbidden,

for ever,

to taste the joys of love,

to bless,
and
to be blessed - then,
life must be a burden,
and if my heavenly Father would call me away,
I should be glad
to rest.

But it would not do
to die and leave my mother.

Selfish,
unworthy daughter,

to forget her
for a moment!

Was not her happiness committed in a great measure
to my charge?

- and the welfare of our young pupils too?

Should I shrink from the work that God had set before me,
because it was not fitted
to my taste?

Did not He know best what I should do,
and where I ought
to labour?

- and should I long
to quit His service before I had finished my task,
and expect
to enter in
to His rest without having laboured
to earn it?

'No;
by His help I will arise and address myself diligently
to my appointed duty.

If happiness in this world is not
for me,
I will endeavour
to promote the welfare of those around me,
and my reward shall be hereafter.' So said I in my heart;
and from that hour I only permitted my thoughts
to wander
to Edward Weston - or at least
to dwell upon him now and then - as a treat
for rare occasions:

and,
whether it was really the approach of summer or the effect of these good resolutions,
or the lapse of time,
or all together,
tranquillity of mind was soon restored;
and bodily health and vigour began likewise,
slowly,
but surely,

to return.Early in June,
I received a letter from Lady Ashby,
late Miss Murray.

She had written
to me twice or thrice before,
from the different stages of her bridal tour,
always in good spirits,
and professing
to be very happy.

I wondered every time that she had not forgotten me,
in the midst of so much gaiety and variety of scene.

At length,
however,
there was a pause;
and it seemed she had forgotten me,

for upwards of seven months passed away and no letter.

Of course,
I did not break my heart about THAT,
though I often wondered how she was getting on;
and when this last epistle so unexpectedly arrived,
I was glad enough
to receive it.

It was dated from Ashby Park,
where she was come
to settle down at last,
having previously divided her time between the continent and the metropolis.

She made many apologies
for having neglected me so long,
assured me she had not forgotten me,
and had often intended
to write,
&c.

&c.,
but had always been prevented by something.

She acknowledged that she had been leading a very dissipated life,
and I should think her very wicked and very thoughtless;
but,
notwithstanding that,
she thought a great deal,
and,
among other things,
that she should vastly like
to see me.

'We have been several days here already,' wrote she.

'We have not a single friend
with us,
and are likely
to be very dull.

You know I never had a fancy
for living
with my husband like two turtles in a nest,
were he the most delightful creature that ever wore a coat;
so do take pity upon me and come.

I suppose your Midsummer holidays commence in June,
the same as other people's;
therefore you cannot plead want of time;
and you must and shall come - in fact,
I shall die if you don't.

I want you
to visit me as a friend,
and stay a long time.

There is nobody
with me,
as I told you before,
but Sir Thomas and old Lady Ashby:

but you needn't mind them - they'll trouble us but little
with their company.

And you shall have a room
to yourself,
whenever you like
to retire
to it,
and plenty of books
to read when my company is not sufficiently amusing.

I forget whether you like babies;
if you do,
you may have the pleasure of seeing mine - the most charming child in the world,
no doubt;
and all the more so,
that I am not troubled
with nursing it - I was determined I wouldn't be bothered
with that.

Unfortunately,
it is a girl,
and Sir Thomas has never forgiven me:

but,
however,
if you will only come,
I promise you shall be its governess as soon as it can speak;
and you shall bring it up in the way it should go,
and make a better woman of it than its mamma.

And you shall see my poodle,
too:

a splendid little charmer imported from Paris:

and two fine Italian paintings of great value - I forget the artist.

Doubtless you will be able
to discover prodigious beauties in them,
which you must point out
to me,
as I only admire by hearsay;
and many elegant curiosities besides,
which I purchased at Rome and elsewhere;
and,
finally,
you shall see my new home - the splendid house and grounds I used
to covet so greatly.

Alas!

how far the promise of anticipation exceeds the pleasure of possession!

There's a fine sentiment!

I assure you I am become quite a grave old matron:

pray come,
if it be only
to witness the wonderful change.

Write by return of post,
and tell me when your vacation commences,
and say that you will come the day after,
and stay till the day before it closes - in mercy to
'Yours affectionately,
'ROSALIE ASHBY.'
I showed this strange epistle
to my mother,
and consulted her on what I ought
to do.

She advised me
to go;
and I went - willing enough
to see Lady Ashby,
and her baby,
too,
and
to do anything I could
to benefit her,
by consolation or advice;

for I imagined she must be unhappy,
or she would not have applied
to me thus - but feeling,
as may readily be conceived,
that,
in accepting the invitation,
I made a great sacrifice
for her,
and did violence
to my feelings in many ways,
instead of being delighted
with the honourable distinction of being entreated by the baronet's lady
to visit her as a friend.

However,
I determined my visit should be only
for a few days at most;
and I will not deny that I derived some consolation from the idea that,
as Ashby Park was not very far from Horton,
I might possibly see Mr. Weston,
or,
at least,
hear something about him.


CHAPTER XXII - THE VISIT
ASHBY PARK was certainly a very delightful residence.

The mansion was stately without,
commodious and elegant within;
the park was spacious and beautiful,
chiefly on account of its magnificent old trees,
its stately herds of deer,
its broad sheet of water,
and the ancient woods that stretched beyond it:


for there was no broken ground
to give variety
to the landscape,
and but very little of that undulating swell which adds so greatly
to the charm of park scenery.

And so,
this was the place Rosalie Murray had so longed
to call her own,
that she must have a share of it,
on whatever terms it might be offered - whatever price was
to be paid
for the title of mistress,
and whoever was
to be her partner in the honour and bliss of such a possession!

Well I am not disposed
to censure her now.She received me very kindly;
and,
though I was a poor clergyman's daughter,
a governess,
and a schoolmistress,
she welcomed me
with unaffected pleasure
to her home;
and - what surprised me rather - took some pains
to make my visit agreeable.

I could see,
it is true,
that she expected me
to be greatly struck
with the magnificence that surrounded her;
and,
I confess,
I was rather annoyed at her evident efforts
to reassure me,
and prevent me from being overwhelmed by so much grandeur - too much awed at the idea of encountering her husband and mother-in-law,
or too much ashamed of my own humble appearance.

I was not ashamed of it at all;
for,
though plain,
I had taken good care not
to shabby or mean,
and should have been pretty considerably at my ease,
if my condescending hostess had not taken such manifest pains
to make me so;
and,
as
for the magnificence that surrounded her,
nothing that met my eyes struck me or affected me half so much as her own altered appearance.

Whether from the influence of fashionable dissipation,
or some other evil,
a space of little more than twelve months had had the effect that might be expected from as many years,
in reducing the plumpness of her form,
the freshness of her complexion,
the vivacity of her movements,
and the exuberance of her spirits.I wished
to know if she was unhappy;
but I felt it was not my province
to inquire:

I might endeavour
to win her confidence;
but,
if she chose
to conceal her matrimonial cares from me,
I would trouble her
with no obtrusive questions.

I,
therefore,
at first,
confined myself
to a few general inquiries about her health and welfare,
and a few commendations on the beauty of the park,
and of the little girl that should have been a boy:

a small delicate infant of seven or eight weeks old,
whom its mother seemed
to regard
with no remarkable degree of interest or affection,
though full as much as I expected her
to show.Shortly after my arrival,
she commissioned her maid
to conduct me
to my room and see that I had everything I wanted;
it was a small,
unpretending,
but sufficiently comfortable apartment.

When I descended thence - having divested myself of all travelling encumbrances,
and arranged my toilet
with due consideration
for the feelings of my lady hostess,
she conducted me herself
to the room I was
to occupy when I chose
to be alone,
or when she was engaged
with visitors,
or obliged
to be
with her mother-in-law,
or otherwise prevented,
as she said,
from enjoying the pleasure of my society.

It was a quiet,
tidy little sitting-room;
and I was not sorry
to be provided
with such a harbour of refuge.'And some time,' said she,
'I will show you the library:

I never examined its shelves,
but,
I daresay,
it is full of wise books;
and you may go and burrow among them whenever you please.

And now you shall have some tea - it will soon be dinner-time,
but I thought,
as you were accustomed
to dine at one,
you would perhaps like better
to have a cup of tea about this time,
and
to dine when we lunch:

and then,
you know,
you can have your tea in this room,
and that will save you from having
to dine
with Lady Ashby and Sir Thomas:

which would be rather awkward - at least,
not awkward,
but rather - a - you know what I mean.

I thought you mightn't like it so well - especially as we may have other ladies and gentlemen
to dine
with us occasionally.'
'Certainly,' said I,
'I would much rather have it as you say,
and,
if you have no objection,
I should prefer having all my meals in this room.'
'Why so?'
'Because,
I imagine,
it would be more agreeable
to Lady Ashby and Sir Thomas.'
'Nothing of the kind.'
'At any rate it would be more agreeable
to me.'
She made some faint objections,
but soon conceded;
and I could see that the proposal was a considerable relief
to her.'Now,
come in
to the drawing-room,' said she.

'There's the dressing bell;
but I won't go yet:

it's no use dressing when there's no one
to see you;
and I want
to have a little discourse.'
The drawing-room was certainly an imposing apartment,
and very elegantly furnished;
but I saw its young mistress glance towards me as we entered,
as if
to notice how I was impressed by the spectacle,
and accordingly I determined
to preserve an aspect of stony indifference,
as if I saw nothing at all remarkable.

But this was only
for a moment:

immediately conscience whispered,
'Why should I disappoint her
to save my pride?

No - rather let me sacrifice my pride
to give her a little innocent gratification.' And I honestly looked round,
and told her it was a noble room,
and very tastefully furnished.

She said little,
but I saw she was pleased.She showed me her fat French poodle,
that lay curled up on a silk cushion,
and the two fine Italian paintings:

which,
however,
she would not give me time
to examine,
but,
saying I must look at them some other day,
insisted upon my admiring the little jewelled watch she had purchased in Geneva;
and then she took me round the room
to point out sundry articles of VERTU she had brought from Italy:

an elegant little timepiece,
and several busts,
small graceful figures,
and vases,
all beautifully carved in white marble.

She spoke of these
with animation,
and heard my admiring comments
with a smile of pleasure:

that soon,
however,
vanished,
and was followed by a melancholy sigh;
as if in consideration of the insufficiency of all such baubles
to the happiness of the human heart,
and their woeful inability
to supply its insatiate demands.Then,
stretching herself upon a couch,
she motioned me
to a capacious easy-chair that stood opposite - not before the fire,
but before a wide open window;

for it was summer,
be it remembered;
a sweet,
warm evening in the latter half of June.

I sat
for a moment in silence,
enjoying the still,
pure air,
and the delightful prospect of the park that lay before me,
rich in verdure and foliage,
and basking in yellow sunshine,
relieved by the long shadows of declining day.

But I must take advantage of this pause:

I had inquiries
to make,
and,
like the substance of a lady's postscript,
the most important must come last.

So I began
with asking after Mr. and Mrs. Murray,
and Miss Matilda and the young gentlemen.I was told that papa had the gout,
which made him very ferocious;
and that he would not give up his choice wines,
and his substantial dinners and suppers,
and had quarrelled
with his physician,
because the latter had dared
to say that no medicine could cure him while he lived so freely;
that mamma and the rest were well.

Matilda was still wild and reckless,
but she had got a fashionable governess,
and was considerably improved in her manners,
and soon
to be introduced
to the world;
and John and Charles (now at home
for the holidays) were,
by all accounts,
'fine,
bold,
unruly,
mischievous boys.'
'And how are the other people getting on?' said I - 'the Greens,

for instance?'
'Ah!

Mr. Green is heart-broken,
you know,' replied she,

with a languid smile:

'he hasn't got over his disappointment yet,
and never will,
I suppose.

He's doomed
to be an old bachelor;
and his sisters are doing their best
to get married.'
'And the Melthams?'
'Oh,
they're jogging on as usual,
I suppose:

but I know very little about any of them - except Harry,' said she,
blushing slightly,
and smiling again.

'I saw a great deal of him while we were in London;
for,
as soon as he heard we were there,
he came up under pretence of visiting his brother,
and either followed me,
like a shadow,
wherever I went,
or met me,
like a reflection,
at every turn.

You needn't look so shocked,
Miss Grey;
I was very discreet,
I assure you,
but,
you know,
one can't help being admired.

Poor fellow!

He was not my only worshipper;
though he was certainly the most conspicuous,
and,
I think,
the most devoted among them all.

And that detestable - ahem - and Sir Thomas chose
to take offence at him - or my profuse expenditure,
or something - I don't exactly know what - and hurried me down
to the country at a moment's notice;
where I'm
to play the hermit,
I suppose,

for life.'
And she bit her lip,
and frowned vindictively upon the fair domain she had once so coveted
to call her own.'And Mr. Hatfield,' said I,
'what is become of him?'
Again she brightened up,
and answered gaily - 'Oh!

he made up
to an elderly spinster,
and married her,
not long since;
weighing her heavy purse against her faded charms,
and expecting
to find that solace in gold which was denied him in love - ha,
ha!'
'Well,
and I think that's all - except Mr. Weston:

what is he doing?'
'I don't know,
I'm sure.

He's gone from Horton.'
'How long since?

and where is he gone to?'
'I know nothing about him,' replied she,
yawning - 'except that he went about a month ago - I never asked where' (I would have asked whether it was
to a living or merely another curacy,
but thought it better not);
'and the people made a great rout about his leaving,' continued she,
'much
to Mr. Hatfield's displeasure;

for Hatfield didn't like him,
because he had too much influence
with the common people,
and because he was not sufficiently tractable and submissive
to him - and
for some other unpardonable sins,
I don't know what.

But now I positively must go and dress:

the second bell will ring directly,
and if I come
to dinner in this guise,
I shall never hear the end of it from Lady Ashby.

It's a strange thing one can't be mistress in one's own house!

Just ring the bell,
and I'll send
for my maid,
and tell them
to get you some tea.

Only think of that intolerable woman - '
'Who - your maid?'
'No;
- my mother-in-law - and my unfortunate mistake!

Instead of letting her take herself off
to some other house,
as she offered
to do when I married,
I was fool enough
to ask her
to live here still,
and direct the affairs of the house
for me;
because,
in the first place,
I hoped we should spend the greater part of the year,
in town,
and in the second place,
being so young and inexperienced,
I was frightened at the idea of having a houseful of servants
to manage,
and dinners
to order,
and parties
to entertain,
and all the rest of it,
and I thought she might assist me
with her experience;
never dreaming she would prove a usurper,
a tyrant,
an incubus,
a spy,
and everything else that's detestable.

I wish she was dead!'
She then turned
to give her orders
to the footman,
who had been standing bolt upright within the door
for the last half minute,
and had heard the latter part of her animadversions;
and,
of course,
made his own reflections upon them,
notwithstanding the inflexible,
wooden countenance he thought proper
to preserve in the drawing- room.

On my remarking afterwards that he must have heard her,
she replied - 'Oh,
no matter!

I never care about the footmen;
they're mere automatons:

it's nothing
to them what their superiors say or do;
they won't dare
to repeat it;
and as
to what they think - if they presume
to think at all - of course,
nobody cares
for that.

It would be a pretty thing indeed,
it we were
to be tongue-tied by our servants!'
So saying,
she ran off
to make her hasty toilet,
leaving me
to pilot my way back
to my sitting-room,
where,
in due time,
I was served
with a cup of tea.

After that,
I sat musing on Lady Ashby's past and present condition;
and on what little information I had obtained respecting Mr. Weston,
and the small chance there was of ever seeing or hearing anything more of him throughout my quiet,
drab-colour life:

which,
henceforth,
seemed
to offer no alternative between positive rainy days,
and days of dull grey clouds without downfall.

At length,
however,
I began
to weary of my thoughts,
and
to wish I knew where
to find the library my hostess had spoken of;
and
to wonder whether I was
to remain there doing nothing till bedtime.As I was not rich enough
to possess a watch,
I could not tell how time was passing,
except by observing the slowly lengthening shadows from the window;
which presented a side view,
including a corner of the park,
a clump of trees whose topmost branches had been colonized by an innumerable company of noisy rooks,
and a high wall
with a massive wooden gate:

no doubt communicating
with the stable-yard,
as a broad carriage-road swept up
to it from the park.

The shadow of this wall soon took posession of the whole of the ground as far as I could see,
forcing the golden sunlight
to retreat inch by inch,
and at last take refuge in the very tops of the trees.

Ere long,
even they were left in shadow - the shadow of the distant hills,
or of the earth itself;
and,
in sympathy
for the busy citizens of the rookery,
I regretted
to see their habitation,
so lately bathed in glorious light,
reduced
to the sombre,
work-a- day hue of the lower world,
or of my own world within.


for a moment,
such birds as soared above the rest might still receive the lustre on their wings,
which imparted
to their sable plumage the hue and brilliance of deep red gold;
at last,
that too departed.

Twilight came stealing on;
the rooks became more quiet;
I became more weary,
and wished I were going home to-morrow.

At length it grew dark;
and I was thinking of ringing
for a candle,
and betaking myself
to bed,
when my hostess appeared,

with many apologies
for having neglected me so long,
and laying all the blame upon that 'nasty old woman,' as she called her mother-in-law.'If I didn't sit
with her in the drawing-room while Sir Thomas is taking his wine,' said she,
'she would never forgive me;
and then,
if I leave the room the instant he comes - as I have done once or twice - it is an unpardonable offence against her dear Thomas.

SHE never showed such disrespect
to HER husband:

and as
for affection,
wives never think of that now-a-days,
she supposes:

but things were different in HER time - as if there was any good
to be done by staying in the room,
when he does nothing but grumble and scold when he's in a bad humour,
talk disgusting nonsense when he's in a good one,
and go
to sleep on the sofa when he's too stupid
for either;
which is most frequently the case now,
when he has nothing
to do but
to sot over his wine.'
'But could you not try
to occupy his mind
with something better;
and engage him
to give up such habits?

I'm sure you have powers of persuasion,
and qualifications
for amusing a gentleman,
which many ladies would be glad
to possess.'
'And so you think I would lay myself out
for his amusement!

No:

that's not MY idea of a wife.

It's the husband's part
to please the wife,
not hers
to please him;
and if he isn't satisfied
with her as she is - and thankful
to possess her too - he isn't worthy of her,
that's all.

And as
for persuasion,
I assure you I shan't trouble myself
with that:

I've enough
to do
to bear
with him as he is,
without attempting
to work a reform.

But I'm sorry I left you so long alone,
Miss Grey.

How have you passed the time?'
'Chiefly in watching the rooks.'
'Mercy,
how dull you must have been!

I really must show you the library;
and you must ring
for everything you want,
just as you would in an inn,
and make yourself comfortable.

I have selfish reasons
for wishing
to make you happy,
because I want you
to stay
with me,
and not fulfil your horrid threat of running away in a day or two.'
'Well,
don't let me keep you out of the drawing-room any longer to- night,

for at present I am tired and wish
to go
to bed.'
CHAPTER XXIII - THE PARK
I CAME down a little before eight,
next morning,
as I knew by the striking of a distant clock.

There was no appearance of breakfast.

I waited above an hour before it came,
still vainly longing
for access
to the library;
and,
after that lonely repast was concluded,
I waited again about an hour and a half in great suspense and discomfort,
uncertain what
to do.

At length Lady Ashby came
to bid me good-morning.

She informed me she had only just breakfasted,
and now wanted me
to take an early walk
with her in the park.

She asked how long I had been up,
and on receiving my answer,
expressed the deepest regret,
and again promised
to show me the library.

I suggested she had better do so at once,
and then there would be no further trouble either
with remembering or forgetting.

She complied,
on condition that I would not think of reading,
or bothering
with the books now;

for she wanted
to show me the gardens,
and take a walk in the park
with me,
before it became too hot
for enjoyment;
which,
indeed,
was nearly the case already.

Of course I readily assented;
and we took our walk accordingly.As we were strolling in the park,
talking of what my companion had seen and heard during her travelling experience,
a gentleman on horseback rode up and passed us.

As he turned,
in passing,
and stared me full in the face,
I had a good opportunity of seeing what he was like.

He was tall,
thin,
and wasted,

with a slight stoop in the shoulders,
a pale face,
but somewhat blotchy,
and disagreeably red about the eyelids,
plain features,
and a general appearance of languor and flatness,
relieved by a sinister expression in the mouth and the dull,
soulless eyes.'I detest that man!' whispered Lady Ashby,

with bitter emphasis,
as he slowly trotted by.'Who is it?' I asked,
unwilling
to suppose that she should so speak of her husband.'Sir Thomas Ashby,' she replied,

with dreary composure.'And do you DETEST him,
Miss Murray?' said I,

for I was too much shocked
to remember her name at the moment.'Yes,
I do,
Miss Grey,
and despise him too;
and if you knew him you would not blame me.'
'But you knew what he was before you married him.'
'No;
I only thought so:

I did not half know him really.

I know you warned me against it,
and I wish I had listened
to you:

but it's too late
to regret that now.

And besides,
mamma ought
to have known better than either of us,
and she never said anything against it - quite the contrary.

And then I thought he adored me,
and would let me have my own way:

he did pretend
to do so at first,
but now he does not care a bit about me.

Yet I should not care
for that:

he might do as he pleased,
if I might only be free
to amuse myself and
to stay in London,
or have a few friends down here:

but HE WILL do as he pleases,
and I must be a prisoner and a slave.

The moment he saw I could enjoy myself without him,
and that others knew my value better than himself,
the selfish wretch began
to accuse me of coquetry and extravagance;
and
to abuse Harry Meltham,
whose shoes he was not worthy
to clean.

And then he must needs have me down in the country,

to lead the life of a nun,
lest I should dishonour him or bring him
to ruin;
as if he had not been ten times worse every way,

with his betting-book,
and his gaming- table,
and his opera-girls,
and his Lady This and Mrs. That - yes,
and his bottles of wine,
and glasses of brandy-and-water too!

Oh,
I would give ten thousand worlds
to be Mss Murray again!

It is TOO bad
to feel life,
health,
and beauty wasting away,
unfelt and unenjoyed,

for such a brute as that!' exclaimed she,
fairly bursting in
to tears in the bitterness of her vexation.Of course,
I pitied her exceedingly;
as well
for her false idea of happiness and disregard of duty,
as
for the wretched partner
with whom her fate was linked.

I said what I could
to comfort her,
and offered such counsels as I thought she most required:

advising her,
first,
by gentle reasoning,
by kindness,
example,
and persuasion,

to try
to ameliorate her husband;
and then,
when she had done all she could,
if she still found him incorrigible,

to endeavour
to abstract herself from him -
to wrap herself up in her own integrity,
and trouble herself as little about him as possible.

I exhorted her
to seek consolation in doing her duty
to God and man,

to put her trust in Heaven,
and solace herself
with the care and nurture of her little daughter;
assuring her she would be amply rewarded by witnessing its progress in strength and wisdom,
and receiving its genuine affection.'But I can't devote myself entirely
to a child,' said she;
'it may die - which is not at all improbable.'
'But,

with care,
many a delicate infant has become a strong man or woman.'
'But it may grow so intolerably like its father that I shall hate it.'
'That is not likely;
it is a little girl,
and strongly resembles its mother.'
'No matter;
I should like it better if it were a boy - only that its father will leave it no inheritance that he can possibly squander away.

What pleasure can I have in seeing a girl grow up
to eclipse me,
and enjoy those pleasures that I am
for ever debarred from?

But supposing I could be so generous as
to take delight in this,
still it is ONLY a child;
and I can't centre all my hopes in a child:

that is only one degree better than devoting oneself
to a dog.

And as
for all the wisdom and goodness you have been trying
to instil in
to me - that is all very right and proper,
I daresay,
and if I were some twenty years older,
I might fructify by it:

but people must enjoy themselves when they are young;
and if others won't let them - why,
they must hate them
for it!'
'The best way
to enjoy yourself is
to do what is right and hate nobody.

The end of Religion is not
to teach us how
to die,
but how
to live;
and the earlier you become wise and good,
the more of happiness you secure.

And now,
Lady Ashby,
I have one more piece of advice
to offer you,
which is,
that you will not make an enemy of your mother-in-law.

Don't get in
to the way of holding her at arms' length,
and regarding her
with jealous distrust.

I never saw her,
but I have heard good as well as evil respecting her;
and I imagine that,
though cold and haughty in her general demeanour,
and even exacting in her requirements,
she has strong affections
for those who can reach them;
and,
though so blindly attached
to her son,
she is not without good principles,
or incapable of hearing reason.

If you would but conciliate her a little,
and adopt a friendly,
open manner - and even confide your grievances
to her - real grievances,
such as you have a right
to complain of - it is my firm belief that she would,
in time,
become your faithful friend,
and a comfort and support
to you,
instead of the incubus you describe her.' But I fear my advice had little effect upon the unfortunate young lady;
and,
finding I could render myself so little serviceable,
my residence at Ashby Park became doubly painful.

But still,
I must stay out that day and the following one,
as I had promised
to do so:

though,
resisting all entreaties and inducements
to prolong my visit further,
I insisted upon departing the next morning;
affirming that my mother would be lonely without me,
and that she impatiently expected my return.

Nevertheless,
it was
with a heavy heart that I bade adieu
to poor Lady Ashby,
and left her in her princely home.

It was no slight additional proof of her unhappiness,
that she should so cling
to the consolation of my presence,
and earnestly desire the company of one whose general tastes and ideas were so little congenial
to her own - whom she had completely forgotten in her hour of prosperity,
and whose presence would be rather a nuisance than a pleasure,
if she could but have half her heart's desire.


CHAPTER XXIV - THE SANDS
OUR school was not situated in the heart of the town:

on entering A- from the north-west there is a row of respectable-looking houses,
on each side of the broad,
white road,

with narrow slips of garden-ground before them,
Venetian blinds
to the windows,
and a flight of steps leading
to each trim,
brass-handled door.

In one of the largest of these habitations dwelt my mother and I,

with such young ladies as our friends and the public chose
to commit
to our charge.

Consequently,
we were a considerable distance from the sea,
and divided from it by a labyrinth of streets and houses.

But the sea was my delight;
and I would often gladly pierce the town
to obtain the pleasure of a walk beside it,
whether
with the pupils,
or alone
with my mother during the vacations.

It was delightful
to me at all times and seasons,
but especially in the wild commotion of a rough sea-breeze,
and in the brilliant freshness of a summer morning.I awoke early on the third morning after my return from Ashby Park - the sun was shining through the blind,
and I thought how pleasant it would be
to pass through the quiet town and take a solitary ramble on the sands while half the world was in bed.

I was not long in forming the resolution,
nor slow
to act upon it.

Of course I would not disturb my mother,
so I stole noiselessly downstairs,
and quietly unfastened the door.

I was dressed and out,
when the church clock struck a quarter
to six.

There was a feeling of freshness and vigour in the very streets;
and when I got free of the town,
when my foot was on the sands and my face towards the broad,
bright bay,
no language can describe the effect of the deep,
clear azure of the sky and ocean,
the bright morning sunshine on the semicircular barrier of craggy cliffs surmounted by green swelling hills,
and on the smooth,
wide sands,
and the low rocks out at sea - looking,

with their clothing of weeds and moss,
like little grass-grown islands - and above all,
on the brilliant,
sparkling waves.

And then,
the unspeakable purity - and freshness of the air!

There was just enough heat
to enhance the value of the breeze,
and just enough wind
to keep the whole sea in motion,

to make the waves come bounding
to the shore,
foaming and sparkling,
as if wild
with glee.

Nothing else was stirring - no living creature was visible besides myself.

My footsteps were the first
to press the firm,
unbroken sands;
- nothing before had trampled them since last night's flowing tide had obliterated the deepest marks of yesterday,
and left them fair and even,
except where the subsiding water had left behind it the traces of dimpled pools and little running streaMs.Refreshed,
delighted,
invigorated,
I walked along,
forgetting all my cares,
feeling as if I had wings
to my feet,
and could go at least forty miles without fatigue,
and experiencing a sense of exhilaration
to which I had been an entire stranger since the days of early youth.

About half-past six,
however,
the grooms began
to come down
to air their masters' horses - first one,
and then another,
till there were some dozen horses and five or six riders:

but that need not trouble me,

for they would not come as far as the low rocks which I was now approaching.

When I had reached these,
and walked over the moist,
slippery sea-weed (at the risk of floundering in
to one of the numerous pools of clear,
salt water that lay between them),

to a little mossy promontory
with the sea splashing round it,
I looked back again
to see who next was stirring.

Still,
there were only the early grooms
with their horses,
and one gentleman
with a little dark speck of a dog running before him,
and one water-cart coming out of the town
to get water
for the baths.

In another minute or two,
the distant bathing machines would begin
to move,
and then the elderly gentlemen of regular habits and sober quaker ladies would be coming
to take their salutary morning walks.

But however interesting such a scene might be,
I could not wait
to witness it,

for the sun and the sea so dazzled my eyes in that direction,
that I could but afford one glance;
and then I turned again
to delight myself
with the sight and the sound of the sea,
dashing against my promontory -
with no prodigious force,

for the swell was broken by the tangled sea-weed and the unseen rocks beneath;
otherwise I should soon have been deluged
with spray.

But the tide was coming in;
the water was rising;
the gulfs and lakes were filling;
the straits were widening:

it was time
to seek some safer footing;
so I walked,
skipped,
and stumbled back
to the smooth,
wide sands,
and resolved
to proceed
to a certain bold projection in the cliffs,
and then return.Presently,
I heard a snuffling sound behind me and then a dog came frisking and wriggling
to my feet.

It was my own Snap - the little dark,
wire-haired terrier!

When I spoke his name,
he leapt up in my face and yelled
for joy.

Almost as much delighted as himself,
I caught the little creature in my arms,
and kissed him repeatedly.

But how came he
to be there?

He could not have dropped from the sky,
or come all that way alone:

it must be either his master,
the rat-catcher,
or somebody else that had brought him;
so,
repressing my extravagant caresses,
and endeavouring
to repress his likewise,
I looked round,
and beheld - Mr. Weston!
'Your dog remembers you well,
Miss Grey,' said he,
warmly grasping the hand I offered him without clearly knowing what I was about.

'You rise early.'
'Not often so early as this,' I replied,

with amazing composure,
considering all the circumstances of the case.'How far do you purpose
to extend your walk?'
'I was thinking of returning - it must be almost time,
I think.'
He consulted his watch - a gold one now - and told me it was only five minutes past seven.'But,
doubtless,
you have had a long enough walk,' said he,
turning towards the town,

to which I now proceeded leisurely
to retrace my steps;
and he walked beside me.'In what part of the town do you live?' asked he.

'I never could discover.'
Never could discover?

Had he endeavoured
to do so then?

I told him the place of our abode.

He asked how we prospered in our affairs.

I told him we were doing very well - that we had had a considerable addition
to our pupils after the Christmas vacation,
and expected a still further increase at the close of this.'You must be an accomplished instructor,' he observed.'No,
it is my mother,' I replied;
'she manages things so well,
and is so active,
and clever,
and kind.'
'I should like
to know your mother.

Will you introduce me
to her some time,
if I call?'
'Yes,
willingly.'
'And will you allow me the privilege of an old friend,
of looking in upon you now and then?'
'Yes,
if - I suppose so.'
This was a very foolish answer,
but the truth was,
I considered that I had no right
to invite anyone
to my mother's house without her knowledge;
and if I had said,
'Yes,
if my mother does not object,' it would appear as if by his question I understood more than was expected;
so,
SUPPOSING she would not,
I added,
'I suppose so:' but of course I should have said something more sensible and more polite,
if I had had my wits about me.

We continued our walk
for a minute in silence;
which,
however,
was shortly relieved (no small relief
to me) by Mr. Weston commenting upon the brightness of the morning and the beauty of the bay,
and then upon the advantages A- possessed over many other fashionable places of resort.'You don't ask what brings me
to A- ' said he.

'You can't suppose I'm rich enough
to come
for my own pleasure.'
'I heard you had left Horton.'
'You didn't hear,
then,
that I had got the living of F-?'
F- was a village about two miles distant from A-.'No,' said I;
'we live so completely out of the world,
even here,
that news seldom reaches me through any quarter;
except through the medium of the - GAZETTE.

But I hope you like your new parish;
and that I may congratulate you on the acquisition?'
'I expect
to like my parish better a year or two hence,
when I have worked certain reforms I have set my heart upon - or,
at least,
progressed some steps towards such an achievement.

But you may congratulate me now;

for I find it very agreeable
to HAVE a parish all
to myself,

with nobody
to interfere
with me -
to thwart my plans or cripple my exertions:

and besides,
I have a respectable house in a rather pleasant neighbourhood,
and three hundred pounds a year;
and,
in fact,
I have nothing but solitude
to complain of,
and nothing but a companion
to wish for.'
He looked at me as he concluded:

and the flash of his dark eyes seemed
to set my face on fire;
greatly
to my own discomfiture,

for
to evince confusion at such a juncture was intolerable.

I made an effort,
therefore,

to remedy the evil,
and disclaim all personal application of the remark by a hasty,
ill-expressed reply,

to the effect that,
if he waited till he was well known in the neighbourhood,
he might have numerous opportunities
for supplying his want among the residents of F- and its vicinity,
or the visitors of A-,
if he required so ample a choice:

not considering the compliment implied by such an assertion,
till his answer made me aware of it.'I am not so presumptuous as
to believe that,' said he,
'though you tell it me;
but if it were so,
I am rather particular in my notions of a companion
for life,
and perhaps I might not find one
to suit me among the ladies you mention.'
'If you require perfection,
you never will.'
'I do not - I have no right
to require it,
as being so far from perfect myself.'
Here the conversation was interrupted by a water-cart lumbering past us,

for we were now come
to the busy part of the sands;
and,

for the next eight or ten minutes,
between carts and horses,
and asses,
and men,
there was little room
for social intercourse,
till we had turned our backs upon the sea,
and begun
to ascend the precipitous road leading in
to the town.

Here my companion offered me his arm,
which I accepted,
though not
with the intention of using it as a support.'You don't often come on
to the sands,
I think,' said he,
'
for I have walked there many times,
both morning and evening,
since I came,
and never seen you till now;
and several times,
in passing through the town,
too,
I have looked about
for your school - but I did not think of the - Road;
and once or twice I made inquiries,
but without obtaining the requisite information.'
When we had surmounted the acclivity,
I was about
to withdraw my arm from his,
but by a slight tightening of the elbow was tacitly informed that such was not his will,
and accordingly desisted.

Discoursing on different subjects,
we entered the town,
and passed through several streets.

I saw that he was going out of his way
to accompany me,
notwithstanding the long walk that was yet before him;
and,
fearing that he might be inconveniencing himself from motives of politeness,
I observed - 'I fear I am taking you out of your way,
Mr. Weston - I believe the road
to F- lies quite in another direction.'
'I'll leave you at the end of the next street,' said he.'And when will you come
to see mamma?'
'To-morrow - God willing.'
The end of the next street was nearly the conclusion of my journey.

He stopped there,
however,
bid me good-morning,
and called Snap,
who seemed a little doubtful whether
to follow his old mistress or his new master,
but trotted away upon being summoned by the latter.'I won't offer
to restore him
to you,
Miss Grey,' said Mr. Weston,
smiling,
'because I like him.'
'Oh,
I don't want him,' replied I,
'now that he has a good master;
I'm quite satisfied.'
'You take it
for granted that I am a good one,
then?'
The man and the dog departed,
and I returned home,
full of gratitude
to heaven
for so much bliss,
and praying that my hopes might not again be crushed.


CHAPTER XXV - CONCLUSION
'WELL,
Agnes,
you must not take such long walks again before breakfast,' said my mother,
observing that I drank an extra cup of coffee and ate nothing - pleading the heat of the weather,
and the fatigue of my long walk as an excuse.

I certainly did feel feverish and tired too.'You always do things by extremes:

now,
if you had taken a SHORT walk every morning,
and would continue
to do so,
it would do you good.'
'Well,
mamma,
I will.'
'But this is worse than lying in bed or bending over your books:

you have quite put yourself in
to a fever.'
'I won't do it again,' said I.I was racking my brains
with thinking how
to tell her about Mr. Weston,

for she must know he was coming to-morrow.

However,
I waited till the breakfast things were removed,
and I was more calm and cool;
and then,
having sat down
to my drawing,
I began - 'I met an old friend on the sands to-day,
mamma.'
'An old friend!

Who could it be?'
'Two old friends,
indeed.

One was a dog;' and then I reminded her of Snap,
whose history I had recounted before,
and related the incident of his sudden appearance and remarkable recognition;
'and the other,' continued I,
'was Mr. Weston,
the curate of Horton.'
'Mr. Weston!

I never heard of him before.'
'Yes,
you have:

I've mentioned him several times,
I believe:

but you don't remember.'
'I've heard you speak of Mr. Hatfield.'
'Mr. Hatfield was the rector,
and Mr. Weston the curate:

I used
to mention him sometimes in contradistinction
to Mr. Hatfield,
as being a more efficient clergyman.

However,
he was on the sands this morning
with the dog - he had bought it,
I suppose,
from the rat-catcher;
and he knew me as well as it did - probably through its means:

and I had a little conversation
with him,
in the course of which,
as he asked about our school,
I was led
to say something about you,
and your good management;
and he said he should like
to know you,
and asked if I would introduce him
to you,
if he should take the liberty of calling to-morrow;
so I said I would.

Was I right?'
'Of course.

What kind of a man is he?'
'A very RESPECTABLE man,
I think:

but you will see him to-morrow.

He is the new vicar of F-,
and as he has only been there a few weeks,
I suppose he has made no friends yet,
and wants a little society.'
The morrow came.

What a fever of anxiety and expectation I was in from breakfast till noon - at which time he made his appearance!

Having introduced him
to my mother,
I took my work
to the window,
and sat down
to await the result of the interview.

They got on extremely well together - greatly
to my satisfaction,

for I had felt very anxious about what my mother would think of him.

He did not stay long that time:

but when he rose
to take leave,
she said she should be happy
to see him,
whenever he might find it convenient
to call again;
and when he was gone,
I was gratified by hearing her say,
- 'Well!

I think he's a very sensible man.

But why did you sit back there,
Agnes,' she added,
'and talk so little?'
'Because you talked so well,
mamma,
I thought you required no assistance from me:

and,
besides,
he was your visitor,
not mine.'
After that,
he often called upon us - several times in the course of a week.

He generally addressed most of his conversation
to my mother:

and no wonder,

for she could converse.

I almost envied the unfettered,
vigorous fluency of her discourse,
and the strong sense evinced by everything she said - and yet,
I did not;
for,
though I occasionally regretted my own deficiencies
for his sake,
it gave me very great pleasure
to sit and hear the two beings I loved and honoured above every one else in the world,
discoursing together so amicably,
so wisely,
and so well.

I was not always silent,
however;
nor was I at all neglected.

I was quite as much noticed as I would wish
to be:

there was no lack of kind words and kinder looks,
no end of delicate attentions,
too fine and subtle
to be grasped by words,
and therefore indescribable - but deeply felt at heart.Ceremony was quickly dropped between us:

Mr. Weston came as an expected guest,
welcome at all times,
and never deranging the economy of our household affairs.

He even called me 'Agnes:' the name had been timidly spoken at first,
but,
finding it gave no offence in any quarter,
he seemed greatly
to prefer that appellation
to 'Miss Grey;' and so did I.

How tedious and gloomy were those days in which he did not come!

And yet not miserable;

for I had still the remembrance of the last visit and the hope of the next
to cheer me.

But when two or three days passed without my seeing him,
I certainly felt very anxious - absurdly,
unreasonably so;
for,
of course,
he had his own business and the affairs of his parish
to attend to.

And I dreaded the close of the holidays,
when MY business also would begin,
and I should be sometimes unable
to see him,
and sometimes - when my mother was in the schoolroom - obliged
to be
with him alone:

a position I did not at all desire,
in the house;
though
to meet him out of doors,
and walk beside him,
had proved by no means disagreeable.One evening,
however,
in the last week of the vacation,
he arrived - unexpectedly:


for a heavy and protracted thunder-shower during the afternoon had almost destroyed my hopes of seeing him that day;
but now the storm was over,
and the sun was shining brightly.'A beautiful evening,
Mrs. Grey!' said he,
as he entered.

'Agnes,
I want you
to take a walk
with me
to - ' (he named a certain part of the coast - a bold hill on the land side,
and towards the sea a steep precipice,
from the summit of which a glorious view is
to be had).

'The rain has laid the dust,
and cooled and cleared the air,
and the prospect will be magnificent.

Will you come?'
'Can I go,
mamma?'
'Yes;

to be sure.'
I went
to get ready,
and was down again in a few minutes;
though,
of course,
I took a little more pains
with my attire than if I had merely been going out on some shopping expedition alone.

The thunder-shower had certainly had a most beneficial effect upon the weather,
and the evening was most delightful.

Mr. Weston would have me
to take his arm;
he said little during our passage through the crowded streets,
but walked very fast,
and appeared grave and abstracted.

I wondered what was the matter,
and felt an indefinite dread that something unpleasant was on his mind;
and vague surmises,
concerning what it might be,
troubled me not a little,
and made me grave and silent enough.

But these fantasies vanished upon reaching the quiet outskirts of the town;

for as soon as we came within sight of the venerable old church,
and the - hill,

with the deep blue beyond it,
I found my companion was cheerful enough.'I'm afraid I've been walking too fast
for you,
Agnes,' said he:

'in my impatience
to be rid of the town,
I forgot
to consult your convenience;
but now we'll walk as slowly as you please.

I see,
by those light clouds in the west,
there will be a brilliant sunset,
and we shall be in time
to witness its effect upon the sea,
at the most moderate rate of progression.'
When we had got about half-way up the hill,
we fell in
to silence again;
which,
as usual,
he was the first
to break.'My house is desolate yet,
Miss Grey,' he smilingly observed,
'and I am acquainted now
with all the ladies in my parish,
and several in this town too;
and many others I know by sight and by report;
but not one of them will suit me
for a companion;
in fact,
there is only one person in the world that will:

and that is yourself;
and I want
to know your decision?'
'Are you in earnest,
Mr. Weston?'
'In earnest!

How could you think I should jest on such a subject?'
He laid his hand on mine,
that rested on his arm:

he must have felt it tremble - but it was no great matter now.'I hope I have not been too precipitate,' he said,
in a serious tone.

'You must have known that it was not my way
to flatter and talk soft nonsense,
or even
to speak the admiration that I felt;
and that a single word or glance of mine meant more than the honied phrases and fervent protestations of most other men.'
I said something about not liking
to leave my mother,
and doing nothing without her consent.'I settled everything
with Mrs. Grey,
while you were putting on your bonnet,' replied he.

'She said I might have her consent,
if I could obtain yours;
and I asked her,
in case I should be so happy,

to come and live
with us -
for I was sure you would like it better.

But she refused,
saying she could now afford
to employ an assistant,
and would continue the school till she could purchase an annuity sufficient
to maintain her in comfortable lodgings;
and,
meantime,
she would spend her vacations alternately
with us and your sister,
and should be quite contented if you were happy.

And so now I have overruled your objections on her account.

Have you any other?'
'No - none.'
'You love me then?' said be,
fervently pressing my hand.'Yes.'
Here I pause.

My Diary,
from which I have compiled these pages,
goes but little further.

I could go on
for years,
but I will content myself
with adding,
that I shall never forget that glorious summer evening,
and always remember
with delight that steep hill,
and the edge of the precipice where we stood together,
watching the splendid sunset mirrored in the restless world of waters at our feet -
with hearts filled
with gratitude
to heaven,
and happiness,
and love - almost too full
for speech.A few weeks after that,
when my mother had supplied herself
with an assistant,
I became the wife of Edward Weston;
and never have found cause
to repent it,
and am certain that I never shall.

We have had trials,
and we know that we must have them again;
but we bear them well together,
and endeavour
to fortify ourselves and each other against the final separation - that greatest of all afflictions
to the survivor.

But,
if we keep in mind the glorious heaven beyond,
where both may meet again,
and sin and sorrow are unknown,
surely that too may be borne;
and,
meantime,
we endeavour
to live
to the glory of Him who has scattered so many blessings in our path.Edward,
by his strenuous exertions,
has worked surprising reforms in his parish,
and is esteemed and loved by its inhabitants - as he deserves;

for whatever his faults may be as a man (and no one is entirely without),
I defy anybody
to blame him as a pastor,
a husband,
or a father.Our children,
Edward,
Agnes,
and little Mary,
promise well;
their education,

for the time being,
is chiefly committed
to me;
and they shall want no good thing that a mother's care can give.

Our modest income is amply sufficient
for our requirements:

and by practising the economy we learnt in harder times,
and never attempting
to imitate our richer neighbours,
we manage not only
to enjoy comfort and contentment ourselves,
but
to have every year something
to lay by
for our children,
and something
to give
to those who need it.And now I think I have said sufficient.