AGNES GREY

CHAPTER I--THE PARSONAGE

All true histories contain instruction; though, in some, thetreasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial inquantity, that the dry, shrivelled kernel scarcely compensates forthe trouble of cracking the nut. Whether this be the case with myhistory or not, I am hardly competent to judge. I sometimes thinkit might prove useful to some, and entertaining to others; but theworld may judge for itself. Shielded by my own obscurity, and bythe lapse of years, and a few fictitious names, I do not fear toventure; and will candidly lay before the public what I would notdisclose to the most intimate friend. 

My father was a clergyman of the north of England, who wasdeservedly respected by all who knew him; and, in his younger days, lived pretty comfortably on the joint income of a small incumbencyand a snug little property of his own. My mother, who married himagainst the wishes of her friends, was a squire's daughter, and awoman of spirit. In vain it was represented to her, that if shebecame the poor parson's wife, she must relinquish her carriage andher lady's-maid, and all the luxuries and elegancies of affluence;which to her were little less than the necessaries of life. Acarriage and a lady's-maid were great conveniences; but, thankheaven, she had feet to carry her, and hands to minister to her ownnecessities. An elegant house and spacious grounds were not to bedespised; but she would rather live in a cottage with Richard Greythan in a palace with any other man in the world. 

Finding arguments of no avail, her father, at length, told thelovers they might marry if they pleased; but, in so doing, hisdaughter would forfeit every fraction of her fortune. He expectedthis would cool the ardour of both; but he was mistaken. My fatherknew too well my mother's superior worth not to be sensible thatshe was a valuable fortune in herself: and if she would butconsent to embellish his humble hearth he should be happy to takeher on any terms; while she, on her part, would rather labour withher own hands than be divided from the man she loved, whosehappiness it would be her joy to make, and who was already one withher in heart and soul. So her fortune went to swell the purse of awiser sister, who had married a rich nabob; and she, to the wonderand compassionate regret of all who knew her, went to bury herselfin the homely village parsonage among the hills of -. And yet, inspite of all this, and in spite of my mother's high spirit and myfather's whims, I believe you might search all England through, andfail to find a happier couple. 

Of six children, my sister Mary and myself were the only two thatsurvived the perils of infancy and early childhood. I, being theyounger by five or six years, was always regarded as THE child, andthe pet of the family: father, mother, and sister, all combined tospoil me--not by foolish indulgence, to render me fractious andungovernable, but by ceaseless kindness, to make me too helplessand dependent--too unfit for buffeting with the cares and turmoilsof life. 

Mary and I were brought up in the strictest seclusion. My mother, being at once highly accomplished, well informed, and fond ofemployment, took the whole charge of our education on herself, withthe exception of Latin--which my father undertook to teach us--sothat we never even went to school; and, as there was no society inthe neighbourhood, our only intercourse with the world consisted ina stately tea-party, now and then, with the principal farmers andtradespeople of the vicinity (just to avoid being stigmatized astoo proud to consort with our neighbours), and an annual visit toour paternal grandfather's; where himself, our kind grandmamma, amaiden aunt, and two or three elderly ladies and gentlemen, werethe only persons we ever saw. Sometimes our mother would amuse uswith stories and anecdotes of her younger days, which, while theyentertained us amazingly, frequently awoke--in ME, at least--asecret wish to see a little more of the world. 

I thought she must have been very happy: but she never seemed toregret past times. My father, however, whose temper was neithertranquil nor cheerful by nature, often unduly vexed himself withthinking of the sacrifices his dear wife had made for him; andtroubled his head with revolving endless schemes for theaugmentation of his little fortune, for her sake and ours. In vainmy mother assured him she was quite satisfied; and if he would butlay by a little for the children, we should all have plenty, bothfor time present and to come: but saving was not my father'sforte. He would not run in debt (at least, my mother took goodcare he should not), but while he had money he must spend it: heliked to see his house comfortable, and his wife and daughters wellclothed, and well attended; and besides, he was charitablydisposed, 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 ofdoubling his private property at one stroke; and further increasingit, hereafter, to an untold amount. This friend was a merchant, aman of enterprising spirit and undoubted talent, who was somewhatstraitened in his mercantile pursuits for want of capital; butgenerously proposed to give my father a fair share of his profits, if he would only entrust him with what he could spare; and hethought he might safely promise that whatever sum the latter choseto put into his hands, it should bring him in cent. Per cent. Thesmall patrimony was speedily sold, and the whole of its price wasdeposited in the hands of the friendly merchant; who as promptlyproceeded to ship his cargo, and prepare for his voyage. 

My father was delighted, so were we all, with our brighteningprospects. For the present, it is true, we were reduced to thenarrow income of the curacy; but my father seemed to think therewas no necessity for scrupulously restricting our expenditure tothat; so, with a standing bill at Mr. Jackson's, another atSmith's, and a third at Hobson's, we got along even morecomfortably than before: though my mother affirmed we had betterkeep within bounds, for our prospects of wealth were butprecarious, after all; and if my father would only trust everythingto 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 workby the fire, or wandering on the heath-clad hills, or idling underthe weeping birch (the only considerable tree in the garden), talking of future happiness to ourselves and our parents, of whatwe would do, and see, and possess; with no firmer foundation forour goodly superstructure than the riches that were expected toflow in upon us from the success of the worthy merchant'sspeculations. Our father was nearly as bad as ourselves; only thathe affected not to be so much in earnest: expressing his brighthopes and sanguine expectations in jests and playful sallies, thatalways struck me as being exceedingly witty and pleasant. Ourmother laughed with delight to see him so hopeful and happy: butstill 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 benot 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 hadbeen wrecked, and gone to the bottom with all its stores, togetherwith several of the crew, and the unfortunate merchant himself. Iwas grieved for him; I was grieved for the overthrow of all ourair-built castles: but, with the elasticity of youth, I soonrecovered the shook. 

Though riches had charms, poverty had no terrors for aninexperienced girl like me. Indeed, to say the truth, there wassomething exhilarating in the idea of being driven to straits, andthrown upon our own resources. I only wished papa, mamma, and Marywere all of the same mind as myself; and then, instead of lamentingpast calamities we might all cheerfully set to work to remedy them;and the greater the difficulties, the harder our presentprivations, the greater should be our cheerfulness to endure thelatter, and our vigour to contend against the former. 

Mary did not lament, but she brooded continually over themisfortune, and sank into a state of dejection from which no effortof mine could rouse her. I could not possibly bring her to regardthe matter on its bright side as I did: and indeed I was sofearful of being charged with childish frivolity, or stupidinsensibility, that I carefully kept most of my bright ideas andcheering notions to myself; well knowing they could not beappreciated. 

My mother thought only of consoling my father, and paying our debtsand retrenching our expenditure by every available means; but myfather was completely overwhelmed by the calamity: health, strength, and spirits sank beneath the blow, and he never whollyrecovered them. In vain my mother strove to cheer him, byappealing to his piety, to his courage, to his affection forherself and us. That very affection was his greatest torment: itwas for our sakes he had so ardently longed to increase hisfortune--it was our interest that had lent such brightness to hishopes, and that imparted such bitterness to his present distress. He now tormented himself with remorse at having neglected mymother's advice; which would at least have saved him from theadditional burden of debt--he vainly reproached himself for havingbrought her from the dignity, the ease, the luxury of her formerstation 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 intoan active managing housewife, with hands and head continuallyoccupied with household labours and household economy. The verywillingness with which she performed these duties, the cheerfulnesswith which she bore her reverses, and the kindness which withheldher from imputing the smallest blame to him, were all perverted bythis ingenious self-tormentor into further aggravations of hissufferings. And thus the mind preyed upon the body, and disorderedthe system of the nerves, and they in turn increased the troublesof the mind, till by action and reaction his health was seriouslyimpaired; and not one of us could convince him that the aspect ofour affairs was not half so gloomy, so utterly hopeless, as hismorbid imagination represented it to be. 

The useful pony phaeton was sold, together with the stout, well-fedpony--the old favourite that we had fully determined should end itsdays 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, weredismissed. Our clothes were mended, turned, and darned to theutmost verge of decency; our food, always plain, was now simplifiedto an unprecedented degree--except my father's favourite dishes;our coals and candles were painfully economized--the pair ofcandles reduced to one, and that most sparingly used; the coalscarefully husbanded in the half-empty grate: especially when myfather was out on his parish duties, or confined to bed throughillness--then we sat with our feet on the fender, scraping theperishing embers together from time to time, and occasionallyadding a slight scattering of the dust and fragments of coal, justto keep them alive. As for our carpets, they in time were wornthreadbare, and patched and darned even to a greater extent thanour garments. To save the expense of a gardener, Mary and Iundertook to keep the garden in order; and all the cooking andhousehold work that could not easily be managed by one servant-girl, was done by my mother and sister, with a little occasionalhelp from me: only a little, because, though a woman in my ownestimation, I was still a child in theirs; and my mother, like mostactive, managing women, was not gifted with very active daughters:for this reason--that being so clever and diligent herself, she wasnever tempted to trust her affairs to a deputy, but, on thecontrary, was willing to act and think for others as well as fornumber one; and whatever was the business in hand, she was apt tothink that no one could do it so well as herself: so that wheneverI offered to assist her, I received such an answer as--'No, love, you cannot indeed--there's nothing here you can do. Go and helpyour sister, or get her to take a walk with you--tell her she mustnot 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 withme; she says you may well look thin and dejected, if you sit soconstantly in the house. '

'Help me you cannot, Agnes; and I cannot go out with YOU--I havefar too much to do. '

'Then let me help you. '

'You cannot, indeed, dear child. Go and practise your music, orplay with the kitten. '

There was always plenty of sewing on hand; but I had not beentaught to cut out a single garment, and except plain hemming andseaming, there was little I could do, even in that line; for theyboth asserted that it was far easier to do the work themselves thanto prepare it for me: and besides, they liked better to see meprosecuting my studies, or amusing myself--it was time enough forme to sit bending over my work, like a grave matron, when myfavourite little pussy was become a steady old cat. Under suchcircumstances, although I was not many degrees more useful than thekitten, my idleness was not entirely without excuse. 

Through all our troubles, I never but once heard my mother complainof our want of money. As summer was coming on she observed to Maryand me, 'What a desirable thing it would be for your papa to spenda few weeks at a watering-place. I am convinced the sea-air andthe change of scene would be of incalculable service to him. Butthen, you see, there's no money, ' she added, with a sigh. We bothwished exceedingly that the thing might be done, and lamentedgreatly that it could not. 'Well, well!' said she, 'it's no usecomplaining. Possibly something might be done to further theproject after all. Mary, you are a beautiful drawer. What do yousay to doing a few more pictures in your best style, and gettingthem framed, with the water-coloured drawings you have alreadydone, 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; andfor anything worth while. '

'It's worth while trying, however, my dear: do you procure thedrawings, 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 youchoose some simple piece for your subject, I daresay you will beable 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. Mysister dropped her work in astonishment, exclaiming, 'YOU agoverness, Agnes! What can you be dreaming of?'

'Well! I don't see anything so VERY extraordinary in it. I do notpretend to be able to instruct great girls; but surely I couldteach little ones: and I should like it so much: I am so fond ofchildren. 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 managethan elder ones. '

'But, mamma, I am above eighteen, and quite able to take care ofmyself, and others too. You do not know half the wisdom andprudence I possess, because I have never been tried. '

'Only think, ' said Mary, 'what would you do in a house full ofstrangers, without me or mamma to speak and act for you--with aparcel of children, besides yourself, to attend to; and no one tolook to for advice? You would not even know what clothes to puton. '

'You think, because I always do as you bid me, I have no judgmentof my own: but only try me--that is all I ask--and you shall seewhat I can do. '

At that moment my father entered and the subject of our discussionwas explained to him. 

'What, my little Agnes a governess!' cried he, and, in spite of hisdejection, he laughed at the idea. 

'Yes, papa, don't YOU say anything against it: I should like it somuch; and I am sure I could manage delightfully. '

'But, my darling, we could not spare you. ' And a tear glistened inhis eye as he added--'No, no! afflicted as we are, surely we arenot brought to that pass yet. '

'Oh, no!' said my mother. 'There is no necessity whatever for sucha step; it is merely a whim of her own. So you must hold yourtongue, 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; butstill I did not wholly relinquish my darling scheme. Mary got herdrawing materials, and steadily set to work. I got mine too; butwhile I drew, I thought of other things. How delightful it wouldbe to be a governess! To go out into the world; to enter upon anew life; to act for myself; to exercise my unused faculties; totry my unknown powers; to earn my own maintenance, and something tocomfort and help my father, mother, and sister, besides exoneratingthem from the provision of my food and clothing; to show papa whathis little Agnes could do; to convince mamma and Mary that I wasnot quite the helpless, thoughtless being they supposed. And then, how charming to be entrusted with the care and education ofchildren! Whatever others said, I felt I was fully competent tothe task: the clear remembrance of my own thoughts in earlychildhood would be a surer guide than the instructions of the mostmature adviser. I had but to turn from my little pupils to myselfat their age, and I should know, at once, how to win theirconfidence and affections: how to waken the contrition of theerring; how to embolden the timid and console the afflicted; how tomake Virtue practicable, Instruction desirable, and Religion lovelyand comprehensible. 

- Delightful task!To teach the young idea how to shoot!

To train the tender plants, and watch their buds unfolding day byday!

Influenced by so many inducements, I determined still to persevere;though the fear of displeasing my mother, or distressing myfather's feelings, prevented me from resuming the subject forseveral days. At length, again, I mentioned it to my mother inprivate; and, with some difficulty, got her to promise to assist mewith her endeavours. My father's reluctant consent was nextobtained, and then, though Mary still sighed her disapproval, mydear, kind mother began to look out for a situation for me. Shewrote to my father's relations, and consulted the newspaperadvertisements--her own relations she had long dropped allcommunication with: a formal interchange of occasional letters wasall she had ever had since her marriage, and she would not at anytime have applied to them in a case of this nature. But so longand so entire had been my parents' seclusion from the world, thatmany weeks elapsed before a suitable situation could be procured. At last, to my great joy, it was decreed that I should take chargeof the young family of a certain Mrs. Bloomfield; whom my kind, prim aunt Grey had known in her youth, and asserted to be a verynice woman. Her husband was a retired tradesman, who had realizeda very comfortable fortune; but could not be prevailed upon to givea greater salary than twenty-five pounds to the instructress of hischildren. I, however, was glad to accept this, rather than refusethe situation--which my parents were inclined to think the betterplan. 

But some weeks more were yet to be devoted to preparation. Howlong, how tedious those weeks appeared to me! Yet they were happyones in the main--full of bright hopes and ardent expectations. With what peculiar pleasure I assisted at the making of my newclothes, and, subsequently, the packing of my trunks! But therewas a feeling of bitterness mingling with the latter occupationtoo; and when it was done--when all was ready for my departure onthe morrow, and the last night at home approached--a sudden anguishseemed to swell my heart. My dear friends looked so sad, and spokeso very kindly, that I could scarcely keep my eyes fromoverflowing: but I still affected to be gay. I had taken my lastramble with Mary on the moors, my last walk in the garden, andround the house; I had fed, with her, our pet pigeons for the lasttime--the pretty creatures that we had tamed to peck their foodfrom our hands: I had given a farewell stroke to all their silkybacks as they crowded in my lap. I had tenderly kissed my ownpeculiar favourites, the pair of snow-white fantails; I had playedmy last tune on the old familiar piano, and sung my last song topapa: not the last, I hoped, but the last for what appeared to mea very long time. And, perhaps, when I did these things again itwould be with different feelings: circumstances might be changed, and this house might never be my settled home again. My dearlittle friend, the kitten, would certainly be changed: she wasalready growing a fine cat; and when I returned, even for a hastyvisit at Christmas, would, most likely, have forgotten both herplaymate and her merry pranks. I had romped with her for the lasttime; and when I stroked her soft bright fur, while she lay purringherself to sleep in my lap, it was with a feeling of sadness Icould not easily disguise. Then at bed-time, when I retired withMary to our quiet little chamber, where already my drawers werecleared out and my share of the bookcase was empty--and where, hereafter, she would have to sleep alone, in dreary solitude, asshe expressed it--my heart sank more than ever: I felt as if I hadbeen selfish and wrong to persist in leaving her; and when I kneltonce more beside our little bed, I prayed for a blessing on her andon my parents more fervently than ever I had done before. Toconceal my emotion, I buried my face in my hands, and they werepresently bathed in tears. I perceived, on rising, that she hadbeen crying too: but neither of us spoke; and in silence we betookourselves to our repose, creeping more closely together from theconsciousness that we were to part so soon. 

But the morning brought a renewal of hope and spirits. I was todepart early; that the conveyance which took me (a gig, hired fromMr. Smith, the draper, grocer, and tea-dealer of the village) mightreturn the same day. I rose, washed, dressed, swallowed a hastybreakfast, received the fond embraces of my father, mother, andsister, 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 into a flood of tears. The gigrolled on; I looked back; my dear mother and sister were stillstanding at the door, looking after me, and waving their adieux. Ireturned 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; 'anda darksome 'un too; but we's happen get to yon spot afore therecome 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 toascend the opposite hill. As we were toiling up, I looked backagain; there was the village spire, and the old grey parsonagebeyond it, basking in a slanting beam of sunshine--it was but asickly ray, but the village and surrounding hills were all insombre shade, and I hailed the wandering beam as a propitious omento my home. With clasped hands I fervently implored a blessing onits inhabitants, and hastily turned away; for I saw the sunshinewas departing; and I carefully avoided another glance, lest Ishould 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, withpleasure, to the contemplation of the new life upon which I wasentering. But though it was not far past the middle of September, the heavy clouds and strong north-easterly wind combined to renderthe day extremely cold and dreary; and the journey seemed a verylong one, for, as Smith observed, the roads were 'very heavy'; andcertainly, his horse was very heavy too: it crawled up the hills, and crept down them, and only condescended to shake its sides in atrot 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 wasnearly one o'clock before we reached the place of our destination. Yet, after all, when we entered the lofty iron gateway, when wedrove softly up the smooth, well-rolled carriage-road, with thegreen lawn on each side, studded with young trees, and approachedthe new but stately mansion of Wellwood, rising above its mushroompoplar-groves, my heart failed me, and I wished it were a mile ortwo farther off. For the first time in my life I must stand alone:there was no retreating now. I must enter that house, andintroduce myself among its strange inhabitants. But how was it tobe done? True, I was near nineteen; but, thanks to my retired lifeand the protecting care of my mother and sister, I well knew thatmany a girl of fifteen, or under, was gifted with a more womanlyaddress, and greater ease and self-possession, than I was. Yet, ifMrs. Bloomfield were a kind, motherly woman, I might do very well, after all; and the children, of course, I should soon be at easewith them--and Mr. Bloomfield, I hoped, I should have but little todo with. 

'Be calm, be calm, whatever happens, ' I said within myself; andtruly I kept this resolution so well, and was so fully occupied insteadying my nerves and stifling the rebellious flutter of myheart, that when I was admitted into the hall and ushered into thepresence of Mrs. Bloomfield, I almost forgot to answer her politesalutation; and it afterwards struck me, that the little I did saywas 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 hadtime to reflect. She was a tall, spare, stately woman, with thickblack hair, cold grey eyes, and extremely sallow complexion. 

With due politeness, however, she showed me my bedroom, and left methere to take a little refreshment. I was somewhat dismayed at myappearance on looking in the glass: the cold wind had swelled andreddened my hands, uncurled and entangled my hair, and dyed my faceof a pale purple; add to this my collar was horridly crumpled, myfrock splashed with mud, my feet clad in stout new boots, and asthe trunks were not brought up, there was no remedy; so havingsmoothed my hair as well as I could, and repeatedly twitched myobdurate collar, I proceeded to clomp down the two flights ofstairs, philosophizing as I went; and with some difficulty found myway into the room where Mrs. Bloomfield awaited me. 

She led me into the dining-room, where the family luncheon had beenlaid out. Some beefsteaks and half-cold potatoes were set beforeme; and while I dined upon these, she sat opposite, watching me (asI thought) and endeavouring to sustain something like aconversation--consisting chiefly of a succession of commonplaceremarks, expressed with frigid formality: but this might be moremy fault than hers, for I really could NOT converse. In fact, myattention was almost wholly absorbed in my dinner: not fromravenous appetite, but from distress at the toughness of thebeefsteaks, and the numbness of my hands, almost palsied by theirfive-hours' exposure to the bitter wind. I would gladly have eatenthe potatoes and let the meat alone, but having got a large pieceof the latter on to my plate, I could not be so impolite as toleave it; so, after many awkward and unsuccessful attempts to cutit with the knife, or tear it with the fork, or pull it asunderbetween them, sensible that the awful lady was a spectator to thewhole transaction, I at last desperately grasped the knife and forkin my fists, like a child of two years old, and fell to work withall the little strength I possessed. But this needed some apology--with a feeble attempt at a laugh, I said, 'My hands are sobenumbed with the cold that I can scarcely handle my knife andfork. '

'I daresay you would find it cold, ' replied she with a cool, immutable gravity that did not serve to reassure me. 

When the ceremony was concluded, she led me into the sitting-roomagain, 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 theireducation myself, and we have thought them too young for agoverness till now; but I think they are clever children, and veryapt to learn, especially the little boy; he is, I think, the flowerof the flock--a generous, noble-spirited boy, one to be led, butnot driven, and remarkable for always speaking the truth. He seemsto scorn deception' (this was good news). 'His sister Mary Annwill require watching, ' continued she, 'but she is a very good girlupon the whole; though I wish her to be kept out of the nursery asmuch as possible, as she is now almost six years old, and mightacquire bad habits from the nurses. I have ordered her crib to beplaced in your room, and if you will be so kind as to overlook herwashing and dressing, and take charge of her clothes, she need havenothing further to do with the nursery maid. '

I replied I was quite willing to do so; and at that moment my youngpupils entered the apartment, with their two younger sisters. Master Tom Bloomfield was a well-grown boy of seven, with asomewhat wiry frame, flaxen hair, blue eyes, small turned-up nose, and fair complexion. Mary Ann was a tall girl too, somewhat darklike her mother, but with a round full face and a high colour inher cheeks. The second sister was Fanny, a very pretty littlegirl; Mrs. Bloomfield assured me she was a remarkably gentle child, and required encouragement: she had not learned anything yet; butin a few days, she would be four years old, and then she might takeher first lesson in the alphabet, and be promoted to theschoolroom. The remaining one was Harriet, a little broad, fat, merry, playful thing of scarcely two, that I coveted more than allthe rest--but with her I had nothing to do. 

I talked to my little pupils as well as I could, and tried torender myself agreeable; but with little success I fear, for theirmother'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 termswith them--the little boy especially, of whom I had heard such afavourable character from his mamma. In Mary Ann there was acertain affected simper, and a craving for notice, that I was sorryto observe. But her brother claimed all my attention to himself;he stood bolt upright between me and the fire, with his handsbehind his back, talking away like an orator, occasionallyinterrupting his discourse with a sharp reproof to his sisters whenthey made too much noise. 

'Oh, Tom, what a darling you are!' exclaimed his mother. 'Come andkiss 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 bickeringsbetween the brother and sister that I did my utmost to appease ormitigate, Mary Ann brought me her doll, and began to be veryloquacious on the subject of its fine clothes, its bed, its chestof drawers, and other appurtenances; but Tom told her to hold herclamour, that Miss Grey might see his rocking-horse, which, with amost important bustle, he dragged forth from its corner into themiddle of the room, loudly calling on me to attend to it. Then, ordering his sister to hold the reins, he mounted, and made mestand for ten minutes, watching how manfully he used his whip andspurs. Meantime, however, I admired Mary Ann's pretty doll, andall its possessions; and then told Master Tom he was a capitalrider, but I hoped he would not use his whip and spurs so much whenhe rode a real pony. 

'Oh, yes, I will!' said he, laying on with redoubled ardour. 'I'llcut into 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 areformation. 

'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 shallNEVER see you do that. '

'You will sometimes: I'm obliged to do it now and then to keep herin order. '

'But it is not your business to keep her in order, you know--thatis for--'

'Well, now go and put on your bonnet. '

'I don't know--it is so very cloudy and cold, it seems likely torain;--and you know I have had a long drive. '

'No matter--you MUST come; I shall allow of no excuses, ' repliedthe consequential little gentleman. And, as it was the first dayof our acquaintance, I thought I might as well indulge him. It wastoo cold for Mary Ann to venture, so she stayed with her mamma, tothe great relief of her brother, who liked to have me all tohimself. 

The garden was a large one, and tastefully laid out; besidesseveral splendid dahlias, there were some other fine flowers stillin bloom: but my companion would not give me time to examine them:I must go with him, across the wet grass, to a remote sequesteredcorner, the most important place in the grounds, because itcontained HIS garden. There were two round beds, stocked with avariety of plants. In one there was a pretty little rose-tree. Ipaused to admire its lovely blossoms. 

'Oh, never mind that!' said he, contemptuously. 'That's only MaryAnn's garden; look, THIS is mine. '

After I had observed every flower, and listened to a disquisitionon every plant, I was permitted to depart; but first, with greatpomp, he plucked a polyanthus and presented it to me, as oneconferring a prodigious favour. I observed, on the grass about hisgarden, certain apparatus of sticks and corn, and asked what theywere. 

'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 Icut them in pieces with my penknife; but the next, I mean to roastalive. '

'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 wouldyou like it yourself?'

'Oh, that's nothing! I'm not a bird, and I can't feel what I do tothem. '

'But you will have to feel it some time, Tom: you have heard wherewicked people go to when they die; and if you don't leave offtorturing innocent birds, remember, you will have to go there, andsuffer just what you have made them suffer. '

'Oh, pooh! I shan't. Papa knows how I treat them, and he neverblames me for it: he says it is just what HE used to do when HEwas 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, andnever said anything; except that they were nasty things, and I mustnot let them soil my trousers: end Uncle Robson was there too, andhe 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 prettysinging birds, but the naughty sparrows, and mice, and rats, I maydo 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 wouldthink so too, if they thought much about it. However, ' Iinternally added, 'they may say what they please, but I amdetermined you shall do nothing of the kind, as long as I havepower to prevent it. '

He next took me across the lawn to see his mole-traps, and theninto the stack-yard to see his weasel-traps: one of which, to hisgreat joy, contained a dead weasel; and then into the stable tosee, not the fine carriage-horses, but a little rough colt, whichhe informed me had been bred on purpose for him, and he was to rideit as soon as it was properly trained. I tried to amuse the littlefellow, and listened to all his chatter as complacently as I could;for I thought if he had any affections at all, I would endeavour towin them; and then, in time, I might be able to show him the errorof his ways: but I looked in vain for that generous, noble spirithis mother talked of; though I could see he was not without acertain degree of quickness and penetration, when he chose to exertit. 

When we re-entered the house it was nearly tea-time. Master Tomtold me that, as papa was from home, he and I and Mary Ann were tohave tea with mamma, for a treat; for, on such occasions, shealways 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 hiscompany and conversation till eight. After he was gone, Mrs. Bloomfield further enlightened me on the subject of her children'sdispositions and acquirements, and on what they were to learn, andhow they were to be managed, and cautioned me to mention theirdefects to no one but herself. My mother had warned me before tomention them as little as possible to HER, for people did not liketo be told of their children's faults, and so I concluded I was tokeep silence on them altogether. About half-past nine, Mrs. Bloomfield invited me to partake of a frugal supper of cold meatand bread. I was glad when that was over, and she took her bedroomcandlestick and retired to rest; for though I wished to be pleasedwith her, her company was extremely irksome to me; and I could nothelp feeling that she was cold, grave, and forbidding--the veryopposite of the kind, warm-hearted matron my hopes had depicted herto be. 

CHAPTER III--A FEW MORE LESSONS

I rose next morning with a feeling of hopeful exhilaration, inspite of the disappointments already experienced; but I found thedressing of Mary Ann was no light matter, as her abundant hair wasto be smeared with pomade, plaited in three long tails, and tiedwith bows of ribbon: a task my unaccustomed fingers found greatdifficulty in performing. She told me her nurse could do it inhalf the time, and, by keeping up a constant fidget of impatience, contrived to render me still longer. When all was done, we wentinto the schoolroom, where I met my other pupil, and chatted withthe two till it was time to go down to breakfast. That meal beingconcluded, and a few civil words having been exchanged with Mrs. Bloomfield, we repaired to the schoolroom again, and commenced thebusiness of the day. I found my pupils very backward, indeed; butTom, though averse to every species of mental exertion, was notwithout abilities. Mary Ann could scarcely read a word, and was socareless and inattentive that I could hardly get on with her atall. However, by dint of great labour and patience, I managed toget something done in the course of the morning, and thenaccompanied my young charge out into the garden and adjacentgrounds, for a little recreation before dinner. There we got alongtolerably together, except that I found they had no notion of goingwith me: I must go with them, wherever they chose to lead me. Imust run, walk, or stand, exactly as it suited their fancy. This, I thought, was reversing the order of things; and I found it doublydisagreeable, as on this as well as subsequent occasions, theyseemed to prefer the dirtiest places and the most dismaloccupations. But there was no remedy; either I must follow them, or keep entirely apart from them, and thus appear neglectful of mycharge. To-day, they manifested a particular attachment to a wellat the bottom of the lawn, where they persisted in dabbling withsticks and pebbles for above half an hour. I was in constant fearthat their mother would see them from the window, and blame me forallowing them thus to draggle their clothes and wet their feet andhands, instead of taking exercise; but no arguments, commands, orentreaties could draw them away. If SHE did not see them, some oneelse did--a gentleman on horseback had entered the gate and wasproceeding up the road; at the distance of a few paces from us hepaused, and calling to the children in a waspish penetrating tone, bade them 'keep out of that water. ' 'Miss Grey, ' said he, '(Isuppose it IS Miss Grey), I am surprised that you should allow themto dirty their clothes in that manner! Don't you see how MissBloomfield has soiled her frock? and that Master Bloomfield's socksare quite wet? and both of them without gloves? Dear, dear! Letme REQUEST that in future you will keep them DECENT at least!' sosaying, he turned away, and continued his ride up to the house. This was Mr. Bloomfield. I was surprised that he should nominatehis children Master and Miss Bloomfield; and still more so, that heshould speak so uncivilly to me, their governess, and a perfectstranger to himself. Presently the bell rang to summon us in. Idined with the children at one, while he and his lady took theirluncheon at the same table. His conduct there did not greatlyraise him in my estimation. He was a man of ordinary stature--rather below than above--and rather thin than stout, apparentlybetween thirty and forty years of age: he had a large mouth, pale, dingy complexion, milky blue eyes, and hair the colour of a hempencord. There was a roast leg of mutton before him: he helped Mrs. Bloomfield, the children, and me, desiring me to cut up thechildren's meat; then, after twisting about the mutton in variousdirections, and eyeing it from different points, he pronounced itnot 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 allthe goodness is roasted out of it? And can't you see that all thatnice, 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 themost rueful expressions of discontent. 

'What is the matter with the BEEF, Mr. Bloomfield? I'm sure Ithought it was very nice. '

'And so it WAS very nice. A nicer joint could not be; but it isQUITE spoiled, ' replied he, dolefully. 

'How so?'

'How so! Why, don't you see how it is cut? Dear--dear! it isquite shocking!'

'They must have cut it wrong in the kitchen, then, for I'm sure Icarved 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 completelyruined? But remember that, in future, when a decent dish leavesthis table, they shall not TOUCH it in the kitchen. Remember THAT, Mrs. Bloomfield!'

Notwithstanding the ruinous state of the beef, the gentlemanmanaged to out himself some delicate slices, part of which he atein 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, andsuspending his knife and fork in astonishment. 

'No. I told the cook to get some fish--I did not particularizewhat. '

'Well, that beats everything! A lady professes to keep house, anddoesn'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 infuture. '

Nothing more was said; and I was very glad to get out of the roomwith my pupils; for I never felt so ashamed and uncomfortable in mylife 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 fordessert; and when she and her brother had gone down to the dining-room, I took the opportunity of beginning a letter to my dearfriends at home: but the children came up before I had halfcompleted it. At seven I had to put Mary Ann to bed; then I playedwith Tom till eight, when he, too, went; and I finished my letterand unpacked my clothes, which I had hitherto found no opportunityfor 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 easieras my charges and I got better accustomed to each other, becamemore arduous as their characters unfolded. The name of governess, I soon found, was a mere mockery as applied to me: my pupils hadno more notion of obedience than a wild, unbroken colt. Thehabitual fear of their father's peevish temper, and the dread ofthe punishments he was wont to inflict when irritated, kept themgenerally within bounds in his immediate presence. The girls, too, had some fear of their mother's anger; and the boy mightoccasionally 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 givento understand, the parents reserved that privilege to themselves;and yet they expected me to keep my pupils in order. Otherchildren might be guided by the fear of anger and the desire ofapprobation; but neither the one nor the other had any effect uponthese. 

Master Tom, not content with refusing to be ruled, must needs setup as a ruler, and manifested a determination to keep, not only hissisters, but his governess in order, by violent manual and pedalapplications; and, as he was a tall, strong boy of his years, thisoccasioned no trifling inconvenience. A few sound boxes on theear, on such occasions, might have settled the matter easilyenough: but as, in that case, he might make up some story to hismother which she would be sure to believe, as she had such unshakenfaith in his veracity--though I had already discovered it to be byno means unimpeachable--I determined to refrain from striking him, even in self-defence; and, in his most violent moods, my onlyresource was to throw him on his back and hold his hands and feettill the frenzy was somewhat abated. To the difficulty ofpreventing him from doing what he ought not, was added that offorcing him to do what he ought. Often he would positively refuseto learn, or to repeat his lessons, or even to look at his book. Here, again, a good birch rod might have been serviceable; but, asmy 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 togive my pupils a certain task, which, with moderate attention, theycould perform in a short time; and till this was done, howeverweary I was, or however perverse they might be, nothing short ofparental interference should induce me to suffer them to leave theschoolroom, even if I should sit with my chair against the door tokeep them in. Patience, Firmness, and Perseverance were my onlyweapons; and these I resolved to use to the utmost. I determinedalways strictly to fulfil the threats and promises I made; and, tothat end, I must be cautious to threaten and promise nothing that Icould not perform. Then, I would carefully refrain from alluseless irritability and indulgence of my own ill-temper: whenthey behaved tolerably, I would be as kind and obliging as it wasin my power to be, in order to make the widest possible distinctionbetween good and bad conduct; I would reason with them, too, in thesimplest and most effective manner. When I reproved them, orrefused to gratify their wishes, after a glaring fault, it shouldbe more in sorrow than in anger: their little hymns and prayers Iwould make plain and clear to their understanding; when they saidtheir prayers at night and asked pardon for their offences, I wouldremind them of the sins of the past day, solemnly, but in perfectkindness, to avoid raising a spirit of opposition; penitentialhymns should be said by the naughty, cheerful ones by thecomparatively good; and every kind of instruction I would convey tothem, as much as possible, by entertaining discourse--apparentlywith no other object than their present amusement in view. 

By these means I hoped in time both to benefit the children and togain the approbation of their parents; and also to convince myfriends at home that I was not so wanting in skill and prudence asthey supposed. I knew the difficulties I had to contend with weregreat; but I knew (at least I believed) unremitting patience andperseverance could overcome them; and night and morning I imploredDivine assistance to this end. But either the children were soincorrigible, the parents so unreasonable, or myself so mistaken inmy views, or so unable to carry them out, that my best intentionsand most strenuous efforts seemed productive of no better resultthan sport to the children, dissatisfaction to their parents, andtorment to myself. 

The task of instruction was as arduous for the body as the mind. Ihad to run after my pupils to catch them, to carry or drag them tothe table, and often forcibly to hold them there till the lessonwas done. Tom I frequently put into a corner, seating myselfbefore him in a chair, with a book which contained the little taskthat must be said or read, before he was released, in my hand. Hewas not strong enough to push both me and the chair away, so hewould stand twisting his body and face into the most grotesque andsingular contortions--laughable, no doubt, to an unconcernedspectator, but not to me--and uttering loud yells and dolefuloutcries, intended to represent weeping but wholly without theaccompaniment of tears. I knew this was done solely for thepurpose of annoying me; and, therefore, however I might inwardlytremble with impatience and irritation, I manfully strove tosuppress all visible signs of molestation, and affected to sit withcalm indifference, waiting till it should please him to cease thispastime, and prepare for a run in the garden, by casting his eye onthe book and reading or repeating the few words he was required tosay. Sometimes he was determined to do his writing badly; and Ihad to hold his hand to prevent him from purposely blotting ordisfiguring the paper. Frequently I threatened that, if he did notdo better, he should have another line: then he would stubbornlyrefuse to write this line; and I, to save my word, had finally toresort to the expedient of holding his fingers upon the pen, andforcibly drawing his hand up and down, till, in spite of hisresistance, 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 hiswisest policy was to finish his tasks, and go out and amuse himselftill I and his sisters came to join him; which frequently was notat all, for Mary Ann seldom followed his example in thisparticular: she apparently preferred rolling on the floor to anyother amusement: down she would drop like a leaden weight; andwhen I, with great difficulty, had succeeded in rooting her thence, I had still to hold her up with one arm, while with the other Iheld the book from which she was to read or spell her lesson. Asthe dead weight of the big girl of six became too heavy for one armto bear, I transferred it to the other; or, if both were weary ofthe burden, I carried her into a corner, and told her she mightcome out when she should find the use of her feet, and stand up:but she generally preferred lying there like a log till dinner ortea-time, when, as I could not deprive her of her meals, she mustbe liberated, and would come crawling out with a grin of triumph onher round, red face. Often she would stubbornly refuse topronounce some particular word in her lesson; and now I regret thelost labour I have had in striving to conquer her obstinacy. If Ihad passed it over as a matter of no consequence, it would havebeen better for both parties, than vainly striving to overcome itas I did; but I thought it my absolute duty to crush this vicioustendency in the bud: and so it was, if I could have done it; andhad my powers been less limited, I might have enforced obedience;but, as it was, it was a trial of strength between her and me, inwhich she generally came off victorious; and every victory servedto encourage and strengthen her for a future contest. In vain Iargued, coaxed, entreated, threatened, scolded; in vain I kept herin from play, or, if obliged to take her out, refused to play withher, or to speak kindly or have anything to do with her; in vain Itried to set before her the advantages of doing as she was bid, andbeing loved, and kindly treated in consequence, and thedisadvantages 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 mostdreadful of punishments; but on her they made no impression. Sometimes, exasperated to the utmost pitch, I would shake herviolently by the shoulder, or pull her long hair, or put her in thecorner; for which she punished me with loud, shrill, piercingscreams, that went through my head like a knife. She knew I hatedthis, and when she had shrieked her utmost, would look into my facewith an air of vindictive satisfaction, exclaiming, --'NOW, then!THAT'S for you!' and then shriek again and again, till I was forcedto 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. ' Thiswas blandly spoken to the child. 'And I hope I shall NEVER hearsuch terrible cries again!'

And fixing her cold, stony eyes upon me with a look that could notbe mistaken, she would shut the door, and walk away. Sometimes Iwould try to take the little obstinate creature by surprise, andcasually ask her the word while she was thinking of something else;frequently she would begin to say it, and then suddenly cheekherself, with a provoking look that seemed to say, 'Ah! I'm toosharp for you; you shan't trick it out of me, either. '

On another occasion, I pretended to forget the whole affair; andtalked and played with her as usual, till night, when I put her tobed; then bending over her, while she lay all smiles and goodhumour, just before departing, I said, as cheerfully and kindly asbefore--'Now, Mary Ann, just tell me that word before I kiss yougood-night. You are a good girl now, and, of course, you will sayit. '

'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 symptomof contrition; she really 'didn't care, ' and I left her alone, andin darkness, wondering most of all at this last proof of insensatestubbornness. In MY childhood I could not imagine a moreafflictive punishment than for my mother to refuse to kiss me atnight: the very idea was terrible. More than the idea I neverfelt, for, happily, I never committed a fault that was deemedworthy of such penalty; but once I remember, for some transgressionof my sister's, our mother thought proper to inflict it upon her:what SHE felt, I cannot tell; but my sympathetic tears andsuffering for her sake I shall not soon forget. 

Another troublesome trait in Mary Ann was her incorrigiblepropensity to keep running into the nursery, to play with herlittle sisters and the nurse. This was natural enough, but, as itwas against her mother's express desire, I, of course, forbade herto do so, and did my utmost to keep her with me; but that onlyincreased her relish for the nursery, and the more I strove to keepher out of it, the oftener she went, and the longer she stayed, tothe great dissatisfaction of Mrs. Bloomfield, who, I well knew, would impute all the blame of the matter to me. Another of mytrials was the dressing in the morning: at one time she would notbe washed; at another she would not be dressed, unless she mightwear some particular frock, that I knew her mother would not likeher to have; at another she would scream and run away if Iattempted to touch her hair. So that, frequently, when, after muchtrouble 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 somuch as want of punctuality at meal times. Then, among the minorannoyances, was my inability to satisfy Mrs. Bloomfield with herdaughter's dress; and the child's hair 'was never fit to be seen. 'Sometimes, as a powerful reproach to me, she would perform theoffice of tire woman herself, and then complain bitterly of thetrouble it gave her. 

When little Fanny came into the schoolroom, I hoped she would bemild 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 twofavourite weapons of offence and defence: that of spitting in thefaces of those who incurred her displeasure, and bellowing like abull when her unreasonable desires were not gratified. As she, generally, was pretty quiet in her parents' presence, and they wereimpressed with the notion of her being a remarkably gentle child, her falsehoods were readily believed, and her loud uproars led themto suspect harsh and injudicious treatment on my part; and when, atlength, her bad disposition became manifest even to theirprejudiced eyes, I felt that the whole was attributed to me. 

'What a naughty girl Fanny is getting!' Mrs. Bloomfield would sayto her spouse. 'Don't you observe, my dear, how she is alteredsince she entered the schoolroom? She will soon be as bad as theother two; and, I am sorry to say, they have quite deteriorated oflate. '

'You may say that, ' was the answer. 'I've been thinking that samemyself. I thought when we got them a governess they'd improve;but, instead of that, they get worse and worse: I don't know howit is with their learning, but their habits, I know, make no sortof improvement; they get rougher, and dirtier, and more unseemlyevery day. '

I knew this was all pointed at me; and these, and all similarinnuendoes, affected me far more deeply than any open accusationswould have done; for against the latter I should have been rousedto speak in my own defence: now I judged it my wisest plan tosubdue every resentful impulse, suppress every sensitive shrinking, and go on perseveringly, doing my best; for, irksome as mysituation was, I earnestly wished to retain it. I thought, if Icould struggle on with unremitting firmness and integrity, thechildren would in time become more humanized: every month wouldcontribute to make them some little wiser, and, consequently, moremanageable; for a child of nine or ten as frantic and ungovernableas these at six and seven would be a maniac. 

I flattered myself I was benefiting my parents and sister by mycontinuance here; for small as the salary was, I still was earningsomething, and with strict economy I could easily manage to havesomething 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 broughtall 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. Ilonged to show my friends that, even now, I was competent toundertake the charge, and able to acquit myself honourably to theend; and if ever I felt it degrading to submit so quietly, orintolerable 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 wasonly of a fortnight's duration: 'For, ' said Mrs. Bloomfield, 'Ithought, as you had seen your friends so lately, you would not carefor a longer stay. ' I left her to think so still: but she littleknew how long, how wearisome those fourteen weeks of absence hadbeen to me; how intensely I had longed for my holidays, how greatlyI was disappointed at their curtailment. Yet she was not to blamein this. I had never told her my feelings, and she could not beexpected to divine them; I had not been with her a full term, andshe 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, myhappiness while there--enjoying a brief space of rest and libertyin that dear, familiar place, among the loving and the loved--andmy sorrow on being obliged to bid them, once more, a long adieu. 

I returned, however, with unabated vigour to my work--a morearduous task than anyone can imagine, who has not felt somethinglike the misery of being charged with the care and direction of aset of mischievous, turbulent rebels, whom his utmost exertionscannot bind to their duty; while, at the same time, he isresponsible for their conduct to a higher power, who exacts fromhim what cannot be achieved without the aid of the superior's morepotent authority; which, either from indolence, or the fear ofbecoming unpopular with the said rebellious gang, the latterrefuses to give. I can conceive few situations more harassing thanthat wherein, however you may long for success, however you maylabour to fulfil your duty, your efforts are baffled and set atnought by those beneath you, and unjustly censured and misjudged bythose above. 

I have not enumerated half the vexatious propensities of my pupils, or half the troubles resulting from my heavy responsibilities, forfear of trespassing too much upon the reader's patience; as, perhaps, I have already done; but my design in writing the few lastpages was not to amuse, but to benefit those whom it might concern;he that has no interest in such matters will doubtless have skippedthem over with a cursory glance, and, perhaps, a maledictionagainst the prolixity of the writer; but if a parent has, therefrom, gathered any useful hint, or an unfortunate governessreceived thereby the slightest benefit, I am well rewarded for mypains. 

To avoid trouble and confusion, I have taken my pupils one by one, and discussed their various qualities; but this can give noadequate idea of being worried by the whole three together; when, as was often the case, all were determined to 'be naughty, and totease Miss Grey, and put her in a passion. '

Sometimes, on such occasions, the thought has suddenly occurred tome--'If they could see me now!' meaning, of course, my friends athome; and the idea of how they would pity me has made me pitymyself--so greatly that I have had the utmost difficulty torestrain my tears: but I have restrained them, till my littletormentors were gone to dessert, or cleared off to bed (my onlyprospects of deliverance), and then, in all the bliss of solitude, I have given myself up to the luxury of an unrestricted burst ofweeping. But this was a weakness I did not often indulge: myemployments were too numerous, my leisure moments too precious, toadmit of much time being given to fruitless lamentations. 

I particularly remember one wild, snowy afternoon, soon after myreturn in January: the children had all come up from dinner, loudly declaring that they meant 'to be naughty;' and they had wellkept their resolution, though I had talked myself hoarse, andwearied every muscle in my throat, in the vain attempt to reasonthem out of it. I had got Tom pinned up in a corner, whence, Itold him, he should not escape till he had done his appointed task. Meantime, Fanny had possessed herself of my work-bag, and wasrifling its contents--and spitting into it besides. I told her tolet it alone, but to no purpose, of course. 'Burn it, Fanny!'cried Tom: and THIS command she hastened to obey. I sprang tosnatch 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 allmy valuables, was about to be precipitated from the three-storeywindow. I flew to rescue it. Meanwhile Tom had left the room, andwas rushing down the stairs, followed by Fanny. Having secured mydesk, I ran to catch them, and Mary Ann came scampering after. Allthree escaped me, and ran out of the house into the garden, wherethey plunged about in the snow, shouting and screaming in exultantglee. 

What must I do? If I followed them, I should probably be unable tocapture one, and only drive them farther away; if I did not, howwas I to get them in? And what would their parents think of me, ifthey saw or heard the children rioting, hatless, bonnetless, gloveless, and bootless, in the deep soft snow? While I stood inthis perplexity, just without the door, trying, by grim looks andangry words, to awe them into subjection, I heard a voice behindme, in harshly piercing tones, exclaiming, -

'Miss Grey! Is it possible? What, in the devil's name, can you bethinking about?'

'I can't get them in, sir, ' said I, turning round, and beholdingMr. Bloomfield, with his hair on end, and his pale blue eyesbolting from their sockets. 

'But I INSIST upon their being got in!' cried he, approachingnearer, and looking perfectly ferocious. 

'Then, sir, you must call them yourself, if you please, for theywon't listen to me, ' I replied, stepping back. 

'Come in with you, you filthy brats; or I'll horsewhip you everyone!' roared he; and the children instantly obeyed. 'There, yousee!--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 nobetter control over 'em than that!--Now, there they are--goneupstairs with their nasty snowy feet! Do go after 'em and see themmade decent, for heaven's sake!'

That gentleman's mother was then staying in the house; and, as Iascended the stairs and passed the drawing-room door, I had thesatisfaction of hearing the old lady declaiming aloud to herdaughter-in-law to this effect (for I could only distinguish themost emphatic words) -

'Gracious heavens!--never in all my life--!--get their death assure as--! Do you think, my dear, she's a PROPER PERSON? Take myword 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 oldbody. She would often come to me and talk in a confidentialstrain; nodding and shaking her head, and gesticulating with handsand eyes, as a certain class of old ladies are won't to do; thoughI never knew one that carried the peculiarity to so great anextent. She would even sympathise with me for the trouble I hadwith the children, and express at times, by half sentences, interspersed with nods and knowing winks, her sense of theinjudicious conduct of their mamma in so restricting my power, andneglecting to support me with her authority. Such a mode oftestifying disapprobation was not much to my taste; and I generallyrefused to take it in, or understand anything more than was openlyspoken; at least, I never went farther than an impliedacknowledgment that, if matters were otherwise ordered my taskwould be a less difficult one, and I should be better able to guideand instruct my charge; but now I must be doubly cautious. Hitherto, though I saw the old lady had her defects (of which onewas a proneness to proclaim her perfections), I had always beenwishful to excuse them, and to give her credit for all the virtuesshe professed, and even imagine others yet untold. Kindness, whichhad been the food of my life through so many years, had lately beenso entirely denied me, that I welcomed with grateful joy theslightest semblance of it. No wonder, then, that my heart warmedto the old lady, and always gladdened at her approach and regrettedher departure. 

But now, the few words luckily or unluckily heard in passing hadwholly revolutionized my ideas respecting her: now I looked uponher as hypocritical and insincere, a flatterer, and a spy upon mywords and deeds. Doubtless it would have been my interest still tomeet her with the same cheerful smile and tone of respectfulcordiality as before; but I could not, if I would: my manneraltered with my feelings, and became so cold and shy that she couldnot fail to notice it. She soon did notice it, and HER manneraltered too: the familiar nod was changed to a stiff bow, thegracious smile gave place to a glare of Gorgon ferocity; hervivacious loquacity was entirely transferred from me to 'thedarling boy and girls, ' whom she flattered and indulged moreabsurdly than ever their mother had done. 

I confess I was somewhat troubled at this change: I feared theconsequences of her displeasure, and even made some efforts torecover the ground I had lost--and with better apparent successthan I could have anticipated. At one time, I, merely in commoncivility, asked after her cough; immediately her long visagerelaxed into a smile, and she favoured me with a particular historyof that and her other infirmities, followed by an account of herpious resignation, delivered in the usual emphatic, declamatorystyle, 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!' (anuplifting of the hands and eyes). 'It has always supported methrough all my trials, and always will do' (a succession of nods). 'But then, it isn't everybody that can say that' (a shake of thehead); 'but I'm one of the pious ones, Miss Grey!' (a verysignificant nod and toss). 'And, thank heaven, I always was'(another nod), 'and I glory in it!' (an emphatic clasping of thehands and shaking of the head). And with several texts ofScripture, misquoted or misapplied, and religious exclamations soredolent of the ludicrous in the style of delivery and manner ofbringing in, if not in the expressions themselves, that I declinerepeating 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 wasglad to see her looking so well. The effect of this was magical:the words, intended as a mark of civility, were received as aflattering compliment; her countenance brightened up, and from thatmoment she became as gracious and benign as heart could wish--inoutward semblance at least. From what I now saw of her, and what Iheard from the children, I know that, in order to gain her cordialfriendship, I had but to utter a word of flattery at eachconvenient opportunity: but this was against my principles; andfor lack of this, the capricious old dame soon deprived me of herfavour 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; bythe other, in an excess of frigid formality in her demeanour; andno fawning flattery of the elder could thaw away the wall of icewhich the younger interposed between them. But with her son, theold lady had better success: he would listen to all she had tosay, provided she could soothe his fretful temper, and refrain fromirritating him by her own asperities; and I have reason to believethat she considerably strengthened his prejudice against me. Shewould tell him that I shamefully neglected the children, and evenhis wife did not attend to them as she ought; and that he must lookafter them himself, or they would all go to ruin. 

Thus urged, he would frequently give himself the trouble ofwatching them from the windows during their play; at times, hewould follow them through the grounds, and too often came suddenlyupon them while they were dabbling in the forbidden well, talkingto the coachman in the stables, or revelling in the filth of thefarm-yard--and I, meanwhile, wearily standing, by, havingpreviously exhausted my energy in vain attempts to get them away. Often, too, he would unexpectedly pop his head into the schoolroomwhile the young people were at meals, and find them spilling theirmilk over the table and themselves, plunging their fingers intotheir own or each other's mugs, or quarrelling over their victualslike a set of tiger's cubs. If I were quiet at the moment, I wasconniving at their disorderly conduct; if (as was frequently thecase) I happened to be exalting my voice to enforce order, I wasusing undue violence, and setting the girls a bad example by suchungentleness of tone and language. 

I remember one afternoon in spring, when, owing to the rain, theycould not go out; but, by some amazing good fortune, they had allfinished their lessons, and yet abstained from running down totease their parents--a trick that annoyed me greatly, but which, onrainy days, I seldom could prevent their doing; because, below, they found novelty and amusement--especially when visitors were inthe house; and their mother, though she bid me keep them in theschoolroom, would never chide them for leaving it, or troubleherself to send them back. But this day they appeared satisfiedwith, their present abode, and what is more wonderful still, seemeddisposed to play together without depending on me for amusement, and without quarrelling with each other. Their occupation was asomewhat puzzling one: they were all squatted together on thefloor by the window, over a heap of broken toys and a quantity ofbirds' eggs--or rather egg-shells, for the contents had luckilybeen abstracted. These shells they had broken up and were poundinginto small fragments, to what end I could not imagine; but so longas they were quiet and not in positive mischief, I did not care;and, with a feeling of unusual repose, I sat by the fire, puttingthe finishing stitches to a frock for Mary Ann's doll; intending, when that was done, to begin a letter to my mother. Suddenly thedoor 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, hetestily 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 seewhat confounded work you're making of the carpet?' (the carpet wasa plain brown drugget). 'Miss Grey, did you know what they weredoing?'

'Yes, sir. '

'You knew it?'

'Yes. '

'You knew it! and you actually sat there and permitted them to goon 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? Nowonder your room is not fit for a pigsty--no wonder your pupils areworse than a litter of pigs!--no wonder--oh! I declare, it puts mequite past my patience' and he departed, shutting the door afterhim 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 into the cinders, and stirred them up with unwonted energy; thus easing my irritationunder pretence of mending the fire. 

After this, Mr. Bloomfield was continually looking in to see if theschoolroom was in order; and, as the children were continuallylittering the floor with fragments of toys, sticks, stones, stubble, leaves, and other rubbish, which I could not prevent theirbringing, or oblige them to gather up, and which the servantsrefused to 'clean after them, ' I had to spend a considerableportion of my valuable leisure moments on my knees upon the floor, in painsfully reducing things to order. Once I told them that theyshould not taste their supper till they had picked up everythingfrom the carpet; Fanny might have hers when she had taken up acertain quantity, Mary Ann when she had gathered twice as many, andTom was to clear away the rest. Wonderful to state, the girls didtheir 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 thetable and chairs, and seemed inclined to make a Douglas-larder ofthe 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 herappearance. 

'What is the matter with my boy?' said she. 

And when the matter was explained to her, all she did was to sendfor the nursery-maid to put the room in order, and bring MasterBloomfield his supper. 

'There now, ' cried Tom, triumphantly, looking up from his viandswith 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 pickedup a single thing!'

The only person in the house who had any real sympathy for me wasthe nurse; for she had suffered like afflictions, though in asmaller degree; as she had not the task of teaching, nor was she soresponsible for the conduct of her charge. 

'Oh, Miss Grey!' she would say, 'you have some trouble with themchilder!'

'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. Andthen, you see, I hit 'em a slap sometimes: and them little 'uns--Igives 'em a good whipping now and then: there's nothing else willdo for 'em, as what they say. Howsoever, I've lost my place forit. '

'Have you, Betty? I heard you were going to leave. '

'Eh, bless you, yes! Missis gave me warning a three wik sin'. Shetold me afore Christmas how it mud be, if I hit 'em again; but Icouldn'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, withdark hair and sallow complexion like his sister, a nose that seemedto disdain the earth, and little grey eyes, frequently half-closed, with a mixture of real stupidity and affected contempt of allsurrounding objects. He was a thick-set, strongly-built man, buthe had found some means of compressing his waist into a remarkablysmall compass; and that, together with the unnatural stillness ofhis form, showed that the lofty-minded, manly Mr. Robson, thescorner of the female sex, was not above the foppery of stays. Heseldom deigned to notice me; and, when he did, it was with acertain supercilious insolence of tone and manner that convinced mehe was no gentleman: though it was intended to have a contraryeffect. But it was not for that I disliked his coming, so much asfor the harm he did the children--encouraging all their evilpropensities, and undoing in a few minutes the little good it hadtaken me months of labour to achieve. 

Fanny and little Harriet he seldom condescended to notice; but MaryAnn was something of a favourite. He was continually encouragingher tendency to affectation (which I had done my utmost to crush), talking about her pretty face, and filling her head with all mannerof conceited notions concerning her personal appearance (which Ihad instructed her to regard as dust in the balance compared withthe cultivation of her mind and manners); and I never saw a childso susceptible of flattery as she was. Whatever was wrong, ineither her or her brother, he would encourage by laughing at, ifnot by actually praising: people little know the injury they do tochildren by laughing at their faults, and making a pleasant jest ofwhat their true friends have endeavoured to teach them to hold ingrave abhorrence. 

Though not a positive drunkard, Mr. Robson habitually swallowedgreat quantities of wine, and took with relish an occasional glassof brandy and water. He taught his nephew to imitate him in thisto the utmost of his ability, and to believe that the more wine andspirits he could take, and the better he liked them, the more hemanifested his bold, and manly spirit, and rose superior to hissisters. Mr. Bloomfield had not much to say against it, for hisfavourite beverage was gin and water; of which he took aconsiderable portion every day, by dint of constant sipping--and tothat I chiefly attributed his dingy complexion and waspish temper. 

Mr. Robson likewise encouraged Tom's propensity to persecute thelower creation, both by precept and example. As he frequently cameto course or shoot over his brother-in-law's grounds, he wouldbring his favourite dogs with him; and he treated them so brutallythat, poor as I was, I would have given a sovereign any day to seeone of them bite him, provided the animal could have done it withimpunity. Sometimes, when in a very complacent mood, he would goa-birds'-nesting with the children, a thing that irritated andannoyed me exceedingly; as, by frequent and persevering attempts, Iflattered myself I had partly shown them the evil of this pastime, and hoped, in time, to bring them to some general sense of justiceand humanity; but ten minutes' birds'-nesting with uncle Robson, oreven a laugh from him at some relation of their former barbarities, was sufficient at once to destroy the effect of my whole elaboratecourse of reasoning and persuasion. Happily, however, during thatspring, they never, but once, got anything but empty nests, oreggs--being too impatient to leave them till the birds werehatched; that once, Tom, who had been with his uncle into theneighbouring plantation, came running in high glee into the garden, with a brood of little callow nestlings in his hands. Mary Ann andFanny, whom I was just bringing out, ran to admire his spoils, andto 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 yourlives!' continued he, exultingly; laying the nest on the ground, and standing over it with his legs wide apart, his hands thrustinto his breeches-pockets, his body bent forward, and his facetwisted into all manner of contortions in the ecstasy of hisdelight. 

'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 inthat 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 youtook 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 uncleRobson that knows that. '

'But if you don't tell me, I shall kill them myself--much as I hateit. '

'You daren't. You daren't touch them for your life! because youknow 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 withoutconsulting any one. If your papa and mamma don't happen to approveof it, I shall be sorry to offend them; but your uncle Robson'sopinions, of course, are nothing to me. '

So saying--urged by a sense of duty--at the risk of both makingmyself sick and incurring the wrath of my employers--I got a largeflat stone, that had been reared up for a mouse-trap by thegardener; then, having once more vainly endeavoured to persuade thelittle tyrant to let the birds be carried back, I asked what heintended to do with them. With fiendish glee he commenced a listof torments; and while he was busied in the relation, I dropped thestone upon his intended victims and crushed them flat beneath it. Loud were the outcries, terrible the execrations, consequent uponthis daring outrage; uncle Robson had been coming up the walk withhis gun, and was just then pausing to kick his dog. Tom flewtowards him, vowing he would make him kick me instead of Juno. Mr. Robson leant upon his gun, and laughed excessively at the violenceof his nephew's passion, and the bitter maledictions andopprobrious epithets he heaped upon me. 'Well, you ARE a good'un!' exclaimed he, at length, taking up his weapon and proceedingtowards 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'sbeyond petticoat government already: by God! he defies mother, granny, governess, and all! Ha, ha, ha! Never mind, Tom, I'll getyou 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 intothe house. Tom next went to tell his mamma. It was not her way tosay much on any subject; but, when she next saw me, her aspect anddemeanour were doubly dark and chilled. After some casual remarkabout the weather, she observed--'I am sorry, Miss Grey, you shouldthink it necessary to interfere with Master Bloomfield'samusements; he was very much distressed about your destroying thebirds. '

'When Master Bloomfield's amusements consist in injuring sentientcreatures, ' I answered, 'I think it my duty to interfere. '

'You seemed to have forgotten, ' said she, calmly, 'that thecreatures 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 weighedagainst the welfare of a soulless brute. '

'But, for the child's own sake, it ought not to be encouraged tohave such amusements, ' answered I, as meekly as I could, to make upfor such unusual pertinacity. '"Blessed are the merciful, for theyshall 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 shockingmanner, and putting the dear boy to such misery for a mere whim. '

I judged it prudent to say no more. This was the nearest approachto a quarrel I ever had with Mrs. Bloomfield; as well as thegreatest 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 guestswhose coming to Wellwood House annoyed me; every visitor disturbedme more or less; not so much because they neglected me (though Idid 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 MaryAnn must be noticed by them. Neither the one nor the other knewwhat it was to feel any degree of shamefacedness, or even commonmodesty. They would indecently and clamorously interrupt theconversation of their elders, tease them with the most impertinentquestions, roughly collar the gentlemen, climb their kneesuninvited, hang about their shoulders or rifle their pockets, pullthe ladies' gowns, disorder their hair, tumble their collars, andimportunately beg for their trinkets. 

Mrs. Bloomfield had the sense to be shocked and annoyed at allthis, but she had not sense to prevent it: she expected me toprevent it. But how could I--when the guests, with their fineclothes and new faces, continually flattered and indulged them, outof complaisance to their parents--how could I, with my homelygarments, every-day face, and honest words, draw them away? Istrained every nerve to do so: by striving to amuse them, Iendeavoured to attract them to my side; by the exertion of suchauthority as I possessed, and by such severity as I dared to use, Itried to deter them from tormenting the guests; and by reproachingtheir unmannerly conduct, to make them ashamed to repeat it. Butthey knew no shame; they scorned authority which had no terrors toback it; and as for kindness and affection, either they had nohearts, or such as they had were so strongly guarded, and so wellconcealed, that I, with all my efforts, had not yet discovered howto reach them. 

But soon my trials in this quarter came to a close--sooner than Ieither expected or desired; for one sweet evening towards the closeof May, as I was rejoicing in the near approach of the holidays, and congratulating myself upon having made some progress with mypupils (as far as their learning went, at least, for I HADinstilled SOMETHING into their heads, and I had, at length, broughtthem to be a little--a very little--more rational about gettingtheir lessons done in time to leave some space for recreation, instead of tormenting themselves and me all day long to nopurpose), Mrs. Bloomfield sent for me, and calmly told me thatafter Midsummer my services would be no longer required. Sheassured me that my character and general conduct wereunexceptionable; but the children had made so little improvementsince my arrival that Mr. Bloomfield and she felt it their duty toseek some other mode of instruction. Though superior to mostchildren of their years in abilities, they were decidedly behindthem in attainments; their manners were uncultivated, and theirtempers unruly. And this she attributed to a want of sufficientfirmness, and diligent, persevering care on my part. 

Unshaken firmness, devoted diligence, unwearied perseverance, unceasing care, were the very qualifications on which I hadsecretly prided myself; and by which I had hoped in time toovercome all difficulties, and obtain success at last. I wished tosay something in my own justification; but in attempting to speak, I felt my voice falter; and rather than testify any emotion, orsuffer the tears to overflow that were already gathering in myeyes, I chose to keep silence, and bear all like a self-convictedculprit. 

Thus was I dismissed, and thus I sought my home. Alas! what wouldthey think of me? unable, after all my boasting, to keep my place, even for a single year, as governess to three small children, whosemother was asserted by my own aunt to be a 'very nice woman. 'Having been thus weighed in the balance and found wanting, I neednot hope they would be willing to try me again. And this was anunwelcome thought; for vexed, harassed, disappointed as I had been, and greatly as I had learned to love and value my home, I was notyet weary of adventure, nor willing to relax my efforts. I knewthat all parents were not like Mr. And Mrs. Bloomfield, and I wascertain all children were not like theirs. The next family must bedifferent, and any change must be for the better. I had beenseasoned by adversity, and tutored by experience, and I longed toredeem my lost honour in the eyes of those whose opinion was morethan that of all the world to me. 

CHAPTER VI--THE PARSONAGE AGAIN

For a few months I remained peaceably at home, in the quietenjoyment of liberty and rest, and genuine friendship, from all ofwhich I had fasted so long; and in the earnest prosecution of mystudies, to recover what I had lost during my stay at WellwoodHouse, and to lay in new stores for future use. My father's healthwas still very infirm, but not materially worse than when I lastsaw him; and I was glad I had it in my power to cheer him by myreturn, and to amuse him with singing his favourite songs. 

No one triumphed over my failure, or said I had better have takenhis or her advice, and quietly stayed at home. All were glad tohave me back again, and lavished more kindness than ever upon me, to make up for the sufferings I had undergone; but not one wouldtouch a shilling of what I had so cheerfully earned and socarefully saved, in the hope of sharing it with them. By dint ofpinching here, and scraping there, our debts were already nearlypaid. Mary had had good success with her drawings; but our fatherhad insisted upon HER likewise keeping all the produce of herindustry to herself. All we could spare from the supply of ourhumble wardrobe and our little casual expenses, he directed us toput into the savings'-bank; saying, we knew not how soon we mightbe dependent on that alone for support: for he felt he had notlong to be with us, and what would become of our mother and us whenhe was gone, God only knew!

Dear papa! if he had troubled himself less about the afflictionsthat threatened us in case of his death, I am convinced thatdreaded event would not have taken place so soon. My mother wouldnever suffer him to ponder on the subject if she could help it. 

'Oh, Richard!' exclaimed she, on one occasion, 'if you would butdismiss such gloomy subjects from your mind, you would live as longas any of us; at least you would live to see the girls married, andyourself a happy grandfather, with a canty old dame for yourcompanion. '

My mother laughed, and so did my father: but his laugh soonperished in a dreary sigh. 

'THEY married--poor penniless things!' said he; 'who will take themI wonder!'

'Why, nobody shall that isn't thankful for them. Wasn't Ipenniless when you took me? and you PRETENDED, at least, to bevastly pleased with your acquisition. But it's no matter whetherthey get married or not: we can devise a thousand honest ways ofmaking a livelihood. And I wonder, Richard, you can think ofbothering your head about our POVERTY in case of your death; as ifTHAT would be anything compared with the calamity of losing you--anaffliction that you well know would swallow up all others, andwhich you ought to do your utmost to preserve us from: and thereis 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 cannothelp 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 affectionof 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 speakingwith her alone, 'my money is but little, and cannot last long; if Icould increase it, it would lessen papa's anxiety, on one subjectat least. I cannot draw like Mary, and so the best thing I coulddo 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 arenot like theirs; for I and Mary were not: we always did as you bidus, didn't we?'

'Generally: but then, I did not spoil you; and you were notperfect angels after all: Mary had a fund of quiet obstinacy, andyou were somewhat faulty in regard to temper; but you were verygood children on the whole. '

'I know I was sulky sometimes, and I should have been glad to seethese children sulky sometimes too; for then I could haveunderstood them: but they never were, for they COULD not beoffended, nor hurt, nor ashamed: they could not be unhappy in anyway, except when they were in a passion. '

'Well, if they COULD not, it was not their fault: you cannotexpect stone to be as pliable as clay. '

'No, but still it is very unpleasant to live with suchunimpressible, incomprehensible creatures. You cannot love them;and if you could, your love would be utterly thrown away: theycould neither return it, nor value, nor understand it. But, however, even if I should stumble on such a family again, which isquite unlikely, I have all this experience to begin with, and Ishould manage better another time; and the end and aim of thispreamble is, let me try again. '

'Well, my girl, you are not easily discouraged, I see: I am gladof that. But, let me tell you, you are a good deal paler andthinner than when you first left home; and we cannot have youundermining your health to hoard up money either for yourself orothers. '

'Mary tells me I am changed too; and I don't much wonder at it, forI 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 toassist me, provided I would wait and be patient; and I left her tobroach the matter to my father, when and how she deemed it mostadvisable: never doubting her ability to obtain his consent. Meantime, I searched, with great interest, the advertising columnsof the newspapers, and wrote answers to every 'Wanted a Governess'that appeared at all eligible; but all my letters, as well as thereplies, when I got any, were dutifully shown to my mother; andshe, to my chagrin, made me reject the situations one afteranother: these were low people, these were too exacting in theirdemands, and these too niggardly in their remuneration. 

'Your talents are not such as every poor clergyman's daughterpossesses, Agnes, ' she would say, 'and you must not throw themaway. Remember, you promised to be patient: there is no need ofhurry: you have plenty of time before you, and may have manychances yet. '

At length, she advised me to put an advertisement, myself, in thepaper, 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 oneinstructor; and this time, you shall try your fortune in a somewhathigher family in that of some genuine, thoroughbred gentleman; forsuch are far more likely to treat you with proper respect andconsideration than those purse-proud tradespeople and arrogantupstarts. I have known several among the higher ranks who treatedtheir governesses quite as one of the family; though some, I allow, are as insolent and exacting as any one else can be: for there arebad and good in all classes. '

The advertisement was quickly written and despatched. Of the twoparties who answered it, but one would consent to give me fiftypounds, the sum my mother bade me name as the salary I shouldrequire; and here, I hesitated about engaging myself, as I fearedthe children would be too old, and their parents would require someone more showy, or more experienced, if not more accomplished thanI. But my mother dissuaded me from declining it on that account:I should do vastly well, she said, if I would only throw aside mydiffidence, and acquire a little more confidence in myself. I wasjust to give a plain, true statement of my acquirements andqualifications, and name what stipulations I chose to make, andthen await the result. The only stipulation I ventured to propose, was that I might be allowed two months' holidays during the year tovisit my friends, at Midsummer and Christmas. The unknown lady, inher reply, made no objection to this, and stated that, as to myacquirements, she had no doubt I should be able to givesatisfaction; but in the engagement of governesses she consideredthose things as but subordinate points; as being situated in theneighbourhood of O---, she could get masters to supply anydeficiencies in that respect: but, in her opinion, next tounimpeachable morality, a mild and cheerful temper and obligingdisposition were the most essential requisities. 

My mother did not relish this at all, and now made many objectionsto my accepting the situation; in which my sister warmly supportedher: but, unwilling to be balked again, I overruled them all; and, having first obtained the consent of my father (who had, a shorttime previously, been apprised of these transactions), I wrote amost 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 uponmy new office as governess in the family of Mr. Murray, of HortonLodge, near O---, about seventy miles from our village: aformidable distance to me, as I had never been above twenty milesfrom home in all the course of my twenty years' sojourn on earth;and as, moreover, every individual in that family and in theneighbourhood was utterly unknown to myself and all myacquaintances. But this rendered it only the more piquant to me. I had now, in some measure, got rid of the mauvaise honte that hadformerly oppressed me so much; there was a pleasing excitement inthe idea of entering these unknown regions, and making my way aloneamong its strange inhabitants. I now flattered myself I was goingto see something in the world: Mr. Murray's residence was near alarge town, and not in a manufacturing district, where the peoplehad nothing to do but to make money; his rank from what I couldgather, appeared to be higher than that of Mr. Bloomfield; and, doubtless, he was one of those genuine thoroughbred gentry mymother spoke of, who would treat his governess with dueconsideration as a respectable well-educated lady, the instructorand guide of his children, and not a mere upper servant. Then, mypupils being older, would be more rational, more teachable, andless troublesome than the last; they would be less confined to theschoolroom, and not require that constant labour and incessantwatching; and, finally, bright visions mingled with my hopes, withwhich the care of children and the mere duties of a governess hadlittle or nothing to do. Thus, the reader will see that I had noclaim to be regarded as a martyr to filial piety, going forth tosacrifice peace and liberty for the sole purpose of laying upstores for the comfort and support of my parents: though certainlythe comfort of my father, and the future support of my mother, hada large share in my calculations; and fifty pounds appeared to meno ordinary sum. I must have decent clothes becoming my station; Imust, it seemed, put out my washing, and also pay for my fourannual journeys between Horton Lodge and home; but with strictattention to economy, surely twenty pounds, or little more, wouldcover those expenses, and then there would be thirty for the bank, or little less: what a valuable addition to our stock! Oh, I muststruggle to keep this situation, whatever it might be! both for myown honour among my friends and for the solid services I mightrender them by my continuance there. 

CHAPTER VII--HORTON LODGE

The 31st of January was a wild, tempestuous day: there was astrong north wind, with a continual storm of snow drifting on theground and whirling through the air. My friends would have had medelay my departure, but fearful of prejudicing my employers againstme by such want of punctuality at the commencement of myundertaking, I persisted in keeping the appointment. 

I will not inflict upon my readers an account of my leaving home onthat dark winter morning: the fond farewells, the long, longjourney to O---, the solitary waitings in inns for coaches ortrains--for there were some railways then--and, finally, themeeting at O--- with Mr. Murray's servant, who had been sent withthe phaeton to drive me from thence to Horton Lodge. I will juststate that the heavy snow had thrown such impediments in the way ofboth horses and steam-engines, that it was dark some hours before Ireached my journey's end, and that a most bewildering storm came onat last, which made the few miles' space between O--- and HortonLodge a long and formidable passage. I sat resigned, with thecold, sharp snow drifting through my veil and filling my lap, seeing nothing, and wondering how the unfortunate horse and drivercould make their way even as well as they did; and indeed it wasbut a toilsome, creeping style of progression, to say the best ofit. At length we paused; and, at the call of the driver, someoneunlatched and rolled back upon their creaking hinges what appearedto be the park gates. Then we proceeded along a smoother road, whence, occasionally, I perceived some huge, hoary mass gleamingthrough the darkness, which I took to be a portion of a snow-cladtree. After a considerable time we paused again, before thestately portico of a large house with long windows descending tothe ground. 

I rose with some difficulty from under the superincumbentsnowdrift, and alighted from the carriage, expecting that a kindand hospitable reception would indemnify me for the toils andhardships of the day. A gentleman person in black opened the door, and admitted me into a spacious hall, lighted by an amber-colouredlamp suspended from the ceiling; he led me through this, along apassage, and opening the door of a back room, told me that was theschoolroom. I entered, and found two young ladies and two younggentlemen--my future pupils, I supposed. After a formal greeting, the elder girl, who was trifling over a piece of canvas and abasket of German wools, asked if I should like to go upstairs. Ireplied 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 shortfrock and trousers, shrugged her shoulders and made a slightgrimace, but took a candle and proceeded before me up the backstairs (a long, steep, double flight), and through a long, narrowpassage, to a small but tolerably comfortable room. She then askedme 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 thatmorning, and feeling faint in consequence, I said I would take acup of tea. Saying she would tell 'Brown, ' the young ladydeparted; and by the time I had divested myself of my heavy, wetcloak, shawl, bonnet, &c. , a mincing damsel came to say the youngladies desired to know whether I would take my tea up there or inthe schoolroom. Under the plea of fatigue I chose to take itthere. She withdrew; and, after a while, returned again with asmall tea-tray, and placed it on the chest of drawers, which servedas a dressing-table. Having civilly thanked her, I asked at whattime 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 anylessons before breakfast, I should think it will do if you risesoon after seven. '

I desired her to be so kind as to call me at seven, and, promisingto do so, she withdrew. Then, having broken my long fast on a cupof tea and a little thin bread and butter, I sat down beside thesmall, smouldering fire, and amused myself with a hearty fit ofcrying; after which, I said my prayers, and then, feelingconsiderably relieved, began to prepare for bed. Finding that noneof my luggage was brought up, I instituted a search for the bell;and failing to discover any signs of such a convenience in anycorner of the room, I took my candle and ventured through the longpassage, 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 surewhether it was one of the upper servants, or Mrs. Murray herself:it happened, however, to be the lady's-maid. With the air of oneconferring an unusual favour, she vouchsafed to undertake thesending up of my things; and when I had re-entered my room, andwaited and wondered a long time (greatly fearing that she hadforgotten or neglected to perform her promise, and doubting whetherto keep waiting or go to bed, or go down again), my hopes, atlength, were revived by the sound of voices and laughter, accompanied by the tramp of feet along the passage; and presentlythe luggage was brought in by a rough-looking maid and a man, neither of them very respectful in their demeanour to me. Havingshut the door upon their retiring footsteps, and unpacked a few ofmy things, I betook myself to rest; gladly enough, for I was wearyin body and mind. 

It was with a strange feeling of desolation, mingled with a strongsense of the novelty of my situation, and a joyless kind ofcuriosity concerning what was yet unknown, that I awoke the nextmorning; feeling like one whirled away by enchantment, and suddenlydropped from the clouds into a remote and unknown land, widely andcompletely isolated from all he had ever seen or known before; orlike a thistle-seed borne on the wind to some strange nook ofuncongenial soil, where it must lie long enough before it can takeroot and germinate, extracting nourishment from what appears soalien to its nature: if, indeed, it ever can. But this gives noproper idea of my feelings at all; and no one that has not livedsuch a retired, stationary life as mine, can possibly imagine whatthey were: hardly even if he has known what it is to awake somemorning, and find himself in Port Nelson, in New Zealand, with aworld of waters between himself and all that knew him. 

I shall not soon forget the peculiar feeling with which I raised myblind and looked out upon the unknown world: a wide, whitewilderness 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 joinmy pupils, though not without some feeling of curiosity respectingwhat a further acquaintance would reveal. One thing, among othersof more obvious importance, I determined with myself--I must beginwith calling them Miss and Master. It seemed to me a chilling andunnatural piece of punctilio between the children of a family andtheir instructor and daily companion; especially where the formerwere in their early childhood, as at Wellwood House; but eventhere, my calling the little Bloomfields by their simple names hadbeen regarded as an offensive liberty: as their parents had takencare to show me, by carefully designating them MASTER and MISSBloomfield, &c. , in speaking to me. I had been very slow to takethe hint, because the whole affair struck me as so very absurd; butnow I determined to be wiser, and begin at once with as much formand ceremony as any member of the family would be likely torequire: and, indeed, the children being so much older, therewould be less difficulty; though the little words Miss and Masterseemed to have a surprising effect in repressing all familiar, open-hearted kindness, and extinguishing every gleam of cordialitythat might arise between us. 

As I cannot, like Dogberry, find it in my heart to bestow all mytediousness upon the reader, I will not go on to bore him with aminute detail of all the discoveries and proceedings of this andthe following day. No doubt he will be amply satisfied with aslight sketch of the different members of the family, and a generalview of the first year or two of my sojourn among them. 

To begin with the head: Mr. Murray was, by all accounts, ablustering, roystering, country squire: a devoted fox-hunter, askilful horse-jockey and farrier, an active, practical farmer, anda hearty bon vivant. By all accounts, I say; for, except onSundays, when he went to church, I never saw him from month tomonth: unless, in crossing the hall or walking in the grounds, thefigure of a tall, stout gentleman, with scarlet cheeks and crimsonnose, happened to come across me; on which occasions, if he passednear enough to speak, an unceremonious nod, accompanied by a'Morning, Miss Grey, ' or some such brief salutation, was usuallyvouchsafed. Frequently, indeed, his loud laugh reached me fromafar; and oftener still I heard him swearing and blasphemingagainst the footmen, groom, coachman, or some other haplessdependant. 

Mrs. Murray was a handsome, dashing lady of forty, who certainlyrequired neither rouge nor padding to add to her charms; and whosechief enjoyments were, or seemed to be, in giving or frequentingparties, and in dressing at the very top of the fashion. I did notsee her till eleven o'clock on the morning after my arrival; whenshe honoured me with a visit, just as my mother might step into thekitchen to see a new servant-girl: yet not so, either, for mymother would have seen her immediately after her arrival, and notwaited till the next day; and, moreover, she would have addressedher in a more kind and friendly manner, and given her some words ofcomfort as well as a plain exposition of her duties; but Mrs. Murray did neither the one nor the other. She just stepped intothe schoolroom on her return from ordering dinner in thehousekeeper's room, bade me good-morning, stood for two minutes bythe fire, said a few words about the weather and the 'rather rough'journey I must have had yesterday; petted her youngest child--a boyof ten--who had just been wiping his mouth and hands on her gown, after indulging in some savoury morsel from the housekeeper'sstore; 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 beendelightfully condescending into the bargain. Her childrenevidently held the same opinion, and I alone thought otherwise. 

After this she looked in upon me once or twice, during the absenceof my pupils, to enlighten me concerning my duties towards them. For the girls she seemed anxious only to render them assuperficially attractive and showily accomplished as they couldpossibly be made, without present trouble or discomfort tothemselves; and I was to act accordingly--to study and strive toamuse and oblige, instruct, refine, and polish, with the leastpossible exertion on their part, and no exercise of authority onmine. With regard to the two boys, it was much the same; onlyinstead of accomplishments, I was to get the greatest possiblequantity of Latin grammar and Valpy's Delectus into their heads, inorder to fit them for school--the greatest possible quantity atleast 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 keepyour temper, and be mild and patient throughout; especially withthe dear little Charles; he is so extremely nervous andsusceptible, and so utterly unaccustomed to anything but thetenderest treatment. You will excuse my naming these things toyou; for the fact is, I have hitherto found all the governesses, even the very best of them, faulty in this particular. They wantedthat meek and quiet spirit, which St. Matthew, or some of them, says is better than the putting on of apparel--you will know thepassage to which I allude, for you are a clergyman's daughter. ButI have no doubt you will give satisfaction in this respect as wellas the rest. And remember, on all occasions, when any of the youngpeople do anything improper, if persuasion and gentle remonstrancewill not do, let one of the others come and tell me; for I canspeak 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 youwill do very well. '

I observed that while Mrs. Murray was so extremely solicitous forthe comfort and happiness of her children, and continually talkingabout it, she never once mentioned mine; though they were at home, surrounded by friends, and I an alien among strangers; and I didnot yet know enough of the world, not to be considerably surprisedat this anomaly. 

Miss Murray, otherwise Rosalie, was about sixteen when I came, anddecidedly a very pretty girl; and in two years longer, as time morecompletely developed her form and added grace to her carriage anddeportment, she became positively beautiful; and that in no commondegree. 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 avery light brown inclining to yellow; her eyes were pale blue, butso clear and bright that few would wish them darker; the rest ofher features were small, not quite regular, and not remarkablyotherwise: but altogether you could not hesitate to pronounce hera very lovely girl. I wish I could say as much for mind anddisposition as I can for her form and face. 

Yet think not I have any dreadful disclosures to make: she waslively, light-hearted, and could be very agreeable, with those whodid not cross her will. Towards me, when I first came, she wascold and haughty, then insolent and overbearing; but, on a furtheracquaintance, she gradually laid aside her airs, and in time becameas deeply attached to me as it was possible for HER to be to one ofmy character and position: for she seldom lost sight, for abovehalf an hour at a time, of the fact of my being a hireling and apoor curate's daughter. And yet, upon the whole, I believe sherespected me more than she herself was aware of; because I was theonly person in the house who steadily professed good principles, habitually spoke the truth, and generally endeavoured to makeinclination bow to duty; and this I say, not, of course, incommendation of myself, but to show the unfortunate state of thefamily to which my services were, for the present, devoted. Therewas no member of it in whom I regretted this sad want of principleso much as Miss Murray herself; not only because she had taken afancy to me, but because there was so much of what was pleasant andprepossessing in herself, that, in spite of her failings, I reallyliked her--when she did not rouse my indignation, or ruffle mytemper by TOO great a display of her faults. These, however, Iwould fain persuade myself were rather the effect of her educationthan her disposition: she had never been perfectly taught thedistinction between right and wrong; she had, like her brothers andsisters, been suffered, from infancy, to tyrannize over nurses, governesses, and servants; she had not been taught to moderate herdesires, to control her temper or bridle her will, or to sacrificeher own pleasure for the good of others. Her temper beingnaturally good, she was never violent or morose, but from constantindulgence, and habitual scorn of reason, she was often testy andcapricious; her mind had never been cultivated: her intellect, atbest, was somewhat shallow; she possessed considerable vivacity, some quickness of perception, and some talent for music and theacquisition of languages, but till fifteen she had troubled herselfto acquire nothing;--then the love of display had roused herfaculties, and induced her to apply herself, but only to the moreshowy 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 mightproduce the greatest show with the smallest labour, and theprincipal parts of which were generally done by me. For music andsinging, besides my occasional instructions, she had the attendanceof the best master the country afforded; and in theseaccomplishments, as well as in dancing, she certainly attainedgreat proficiency. To music, indeed, she devoted too much of hertime, as, governess though I was, I frequently told her; but hermother thought that if SHE liked it, she COULD not give too muchtime to the acquisition of so attractive an art. Of fancy-work Iknew nothing but what I gathered from my pupil and my ownobservation; but no sooner was I initiated, than she made me usefulin twenty different ways: all the tedious parts of her work wereshifted on to my shoulders; such as stretching the frames, stitching in the canvas, sorting the wools and silks, putting inthe grounds, counting the stitches, rectifying mistakes, andfinishing the pieces she was tired of. 

At sixteen, Miss Murray was something of a romp, yet not more sothan is natural and allowable for a girl of that age, but atseventeen, that propensity, like all other things, began to giveway to the ruling passion, and soon was swallowed up in the all-absorbing ambition to attract and dazzle the other sex. But enoughof her: now let us turn to her sister. 

Miss Matilda Murray was a veritable hoyden, of whom little need besaid. She was about two years and a half younger than her sister;her features were larger, her complexion much darker. She mightpossibly make a handsome woman; but she was far too big-boned andawkward ever to be called a pretty girl, and at present she caredlittle about it. Rosalie knew all her charms, and thought themeven greater than they were, and valued them more highly than sheought to have done, had they been three times as great; Matildathought she was well enough, but cared little about the matter;still less did she care about the cultivation of her mind, and theacquisition of ornamental accomplishments. The manner in which shelearnt her lessons and practised her music was calculated to driveany governess to despair. Short and easy as her tasks were, ifdone at all, they were slurred over, at any time and in any way;but generally at the least convenient times, and in the way leastbeneficial to herself, and least satisfactory to me: the shorthalf-hour of practising was horribly strummed through; she, meantime, unsparingly abusing me, either for interrupting her withcorrections, or for not rectifying her mistakes before they weremade, or something equally unreasonable. Once or twice, I venturedto remonstrate with her seriously for such irrational conduct; buton each of those occasions, I received such reprehensiveexpostulations from her mother, as convinced me that, if I wishedto keep the situation, I must even let Miss Matilda go on in herown way. 

When her lessons were over, however, her ill-humour was generallyover too: while riding her spirited pony, or romping with the dogsor her brothers and sister, but especially with her dear brotherJohn, she was as happy as a lark. As an animal, Matilda was allright, 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 ofcultivating her understanding, reforming her manners, and aidingher to acquire those ornamental attainments which, unlike hersister, she despised as much as the rest. Her mother was partlyaware of her deficiencies, and gave me many a lecture as to how Ishould try to form her tastes, and endeavour to rouse and cherishher dormant vanity; and, by insinuating, skilful flattery, to winher attention to the desired objects--which I would not do; and howI should prepare and smooth the path of learning till she couldglide along it without the least exertion to herself: which Icould not, for nothing can be taught to any purpose without somelittle exertion on the part of the learner. 

As a moral agent, Matilda was reckless, headstrong, violent, andunamenable to reason. One proof of the deplorable state of hermind was, that from her father's example she had learned to swearlike a trooper. Her mother was greatly shocked at the 'unlady-liketrick, ' and wondered 'how she had picked it up. ' 'But you can soonbreak her of it, Miss Grey, ' said she: 'it is only a habit; and ifyou will just gently remind her every time she does so, I am sureshe will soon lay it aside. ' I not only 'gently reminded' her, Itried to impress upon her how wrong it was, and how distressing tothe ears of decent people: but all in vain: I was only answeredby a careless laugh, and, 'Oh, Miss Grey, how shocked you are! I'mso glad!' or, 'Well! I can't help it; papa shouldn't have taughtme: I learned it all from him; and maybe a bit from the coachman. '

Her brother John, alias Master Murray, was about eleven when Icame: a fine, stout, healthy boy, frank and good-natured in themain, and might have been a decent lad had he been properlyeducated; but now he was as rough as a young bear, boisterous, unruly, unprincipled, untaught, unteachable--at least, for agoverness under his mother's eye. His masters at school might beable to manage him better--for to school he was sent, greatly to myrelief, in the course of a year; in a state, it is true, ofscandalous ignorance as to Latin, as well as the more useful thoughmore neglected things: and this, doubtless, would all be laid tothe account of his education having been entrusted to an ignorantfemale teacher, who had presumed to take in hand what she waswholly incompetent to perform. I was not delivered from hisbrother till full twelve months after, when he also was despatchedin the same state of disgraceful ignorance as the former. 

Master Charles was his mother's peculiar darling. He was littlemore than a year younger than John, but much smaller, paler, andless active and robust; a pettish, cowardly, capricious, selfishlittle fellow, only active in doing mischief, and only clever ininventing falsehoods: not simply to hide his faults, but, in meremalicious wantonness, to bring odium upon others. In fact, MasterCharles was a very great nuisance to me: it was a trial ofpatience to live with him peaceably; to watch over him was worse;and to teach him, or pretend to teach him, was inconceivable. Atten years old, he could not read correctly the easiest line in thesimplest book; and as, according to his mother's principle, he wasto be told every word, before he had time to hesitate or examineits orthography, and never even to be informed, as a stimulant toexertion, that other boys were more forward than he, it is notsurprising that he made but little progress during the two years Ihad charge of his education. His minute portions of Latin grammar, &c. , were to be repeated over to him, till he chose to say he knewthem, and then he was to be helped to say them; if he made mistakesin his little easy sums in arithmetic, they were to be shown him atonce, and the sum done for him, instead of his being left toexercise his faculties in finding them out himself; so that, ofcourse, he took no pains to avoid mistakes, but frequently set downhis figures at random, without any calculation at all. 

I did not invariably confine myself to these rules: it was againstmy conscience to do so; but I seldom could venture to deviate fromthem in the slightest degree, without incurring the wrath of mylittle pupil, and subsequently of his mamma; to whom he wouldrelate my transgressions maliciously exaggerated, or adorned withembellishments of his own; and often, in consequence, was I on thepoint of losing or resigning my situation. But, for their sakes athome, I smothered my pride and suppressed my indignation, andmanaged to struggle on till my little tormentor was despatched toschool; his father declaring that home education was 'no go; forhim, it was plain; his mother spoiled him outrageously, and hisgoverness could make no hand of him at all. '

A few more observations about Horton Lodge and its ongoings, and Ihave done with dry description for the present. The house was avery 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 bypalings, the grove of upstart poplars, and the plantation of firs, there was a wide park, stocked with deer, and beautified by fineold trees. The surrounding country itself was pleasant, as far asfertile fields, flourishing trees, quiet green lanes, and smilinghedges with wild-flowers scattered along their banks, could makeit; but it was depressingly flat to one born and nurtured among therugged hills of -. 

We were situated nearly two miles from the village church, and, consequently, the family carriage was put in requisition everySunday morning, and sometimes oftener. Mr. And Mrs. Murraygenerally thought it sufficient to show themselves at church oncein the course of the day; but frequently the children preferredgoing a second time to wandering about the grounds all the day withnothing to do. If some of my pupils chose to walk and take me withthem, it was well for me; for otherwise my position in the carriagewas to be crushed into the corner farthest from the open window, and with my back to the horses: a position which invariably mademe sick; and if I were not actually obliged to leave the church inthe middle of the service, my devotions were disturbed with afeeling of languor and sickliness, and the tormenting fear of itsbecoming worse: and a depressing headache was generally mycompanion throughout the day, which would otherwise have been oneof welcome rest, and holy, calm enjoyment. 

'It's very odd, Miss Grey, that the carriage should always make yousick: it never makes ME, ' remarked Miss Matilda, 'Nor me either, ' said her sister; 'but I dare say it would, if Isat where she does--such a nasty, horrid place, Miss Grey; I wonderhow you can bear it!'

'I am obliged to bear it, since no choice is left me, '--I mighthave answered; but in tenderness for their feelings I onlyreplied, --'Oh! it is but a short way, and if I am not sick inchurch, I don't mind it. '

If I were called upon to give a description of the usual divisionsand arrangements of the day, I should find it a very difficultmatter. I had all my meals in the schoolroom with my pupils, atsuch times as suited their fancy: sometimes they would ring fordinner before it was half cooked; sometimes they would keep itwaiting on the table for above an hour, and then be out of humourbecause the potatoes were cold, and the gravy covered with cakes ofsolid fat; sometimes they would have tea at four; frequently, theywould storm at the servants because it was not in precisely atfive; and when these orders were obeyed, by way of encouragement topunctuality, they would keep it on the table till seven or eight. 

Their hours of study were managed in much the same way; my judgmentor convenience was never once consulted. Sometimes Matilda andJohn would determine 'to get all the plaguy business over beforebreakfast, ' and send the maid to call me up at half-past five, without any scruple or apology; sometimes, I was told to be readyprecisely at six, and, having dressed in a hurry, came down to anempty room, and after waiting a long time in suspense, discoveredthat they had changed their minds, and were still in bed; or, perhaps, if it were a fine summer morning, Brown would come to tellme that the young ladies and gentlemen had taken a holiday, andwere gone out; and then I was kept waiting for breakfast till I wasalmost ready to faint: they having fortified themselves withsomething before they went. 

Often they would do their lessons in the open air; which I hadnothing to say against: except that I frequently caught cold bysitting on the damp grass, or from exposure to the evening dew, orsome insidious draught, which seemed to have no injurious effect onthem. It was quite right that they should be hardy; yet, surely, they might have been taught some consideration for others who wereless so. But I must not blame them for what was, perhaps, my ownfault; for I never made any particular objections to sitting wherethey pleased; foolishly choosing to risk the consequences, ratherthan trouble them for my convenience. Their indecorous manner ofdoing their lessons was quite as remarkable as the capricedisplayed in their choice of time and place. While receiving myinstructions, or repeating what they had learned, they would loungeupon 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 thefire, or pick up the handkerchief I had dropped, without beingrebuked for inattention by one of my pupils, or told that 'mammawould not like me to be so careless. '

The servants, seeing in what little estimation the governess washeld by both parents and children, regulated their behaviour by thesame standard. I have frequently stood up for them, at the risk ofsome injury to myself, against the tyranny and injustice of theiryoung masters and mistresses; and I always endeavoured to give themas little trouble as possible: but they entirely neglected mycomfort, despised my requests, and slighted my directions. Allservants, I am convinced, would not have done so; but domestics ingeneral, being ignorant and little accustomed to reason andreflection, are too easily corrupted by the carelessness and badexample of those above them; and these, I think, were not of thebest order to begin with. 

I sometimes felt myself degraded by the life I led, and ashamed ofsubmitting to so many indignities; and sometimes I thought myself afool for caring so much about them, and feared I must be sadlywanting in Christian humility, or that charity which 'sufferethlong 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 slightlyameliorated: slowly, it is true, and almost imperceptibly; but Igot rid of my male pupils (that was no trifling advantage), and thegirls, as I intimated before concerning one of them, became alittle less insolent, and began to show some symptoms of esteem. 'Miss Grey was a queer creature: she never flattered, and did notpraise them half enough; but whenever she did speak favourably ofthem, or anything belonging to them, they could be quite sure herapprobation was sincere. She was very obliging, quiet, andpeaceable in the main, but there were some things that put her outof temper: they did not much care for that, to be sure, but stillit was better to keep her in tune; as when she was in a good humourshe would talk to them, and be very agreeable and amusingsometimes, in her way; which was quite different to mamma's, butstill very well for a change. She had her own opinions on everysubject, and kept steadily to them--very tiresome opinions theyoften were; as she was always thinking of what was right and whatwas wrong, and had a strange reverence for matters connected withreligion, and an unaccountable liking to good people. '

CHAPTER VIII--THE 'COMING OUT'

At eighteen, Miss Murray was to emerge from the quiet obscurity ofthe schoolroom into the full blaze of the fashionable world--asmuch of it, at least, as could be had out of London; for her papacould not be persuaded to leave his rural pleasures and pursuits, even for a few weeks' residence in town. She was to make her debuton the third of January, at a magnificent ball, which her mammaproposed to give to all the nobility and choice gentry of O--- andits neighbourhood for twenty miles round. Of course, she lookedforward to it with the wildest impatience, and the most extravagantanticipations of delight. 

'Miss Grey, ' said she, one evening, a month before the all-important day, as I was perusing a long and extremely interestingletter of my sister's--which I had just glanced at in the morningto 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 suremy talk must be far more amusing than that. '

She seated herself on the low stool at my feet; and I, suppressinga sigh of vexation, began to fold up the epistle. 

'You should tell the good people at home not to bore you with suchlong letters, ' said she; 'and, above all, do bid them write onproper note-paper, and not on those great vulgar sheets. Youshould see the charming little lady-like notes mamma writes to herfriends. '

'The good people at home, ' replied I, 'know very well that thelonger their letters are, the better I like them. I should be verysorry 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, totalk 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 aboutthe ball; and to tell you that you positively must put off yourholidays 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, andhear the music, and, above all, see me in my splendid new dress. Ishall be so charming, you'll be ready to worship me--you reallymust stay. '

'I should like to see you very much; but I shall have manyopportunities of seeing you equally charming, on the occasion ofsome of the numberless balls and parties that are to be, and Icannot 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: Ilong 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 bearthe thoughts of a Christmas spent from home: and, moreover, mysister is going to be married. '

'Is she--when?'

'Not till next month; but I want to be there to assist her inmaking preparations, and to make the best of her company while wehave her. '

'Why didn't you tell me before?'

'I've only got the news in this letter, which you stigmatize asdull 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-fashionedgarden, 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 amiableman; I could have answered Yes, to all these questions--at least soMary thinks, and I hope she will not find herself mistaken. '

'But--miserable creature! how can she think of spending her lifethere, 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 herselfis twenty-eight, and as sober as if she were fifty. '

'Oh! that's better then--they're well matched; but do they call himthe "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 piesand puddings?'

'I don't know about the white apron, but I dare say she will makepies 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 tomake them comfortable in body and mind, in accordance with ourmother's example. '

CHAPTER IX--THE BALL

'Now, Miss Grey, ' exclaimed Miss Murray, immediately I entered theschoolroom, after having taken off my outdoor garments, uponreturning from my four weeks' recreation, 'Now--shut the door, andsit down, and I'll tell you all about the ball. '

'No--damn it, no!' shouted Miss Matilda. 'Hold your tongue, can'tye? and let me tell her about my new mare--SUCH a splendour, MissGrey! 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--sheshall 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 thatshocking habit yet. '

'Well, I can't help it: but I'll never say a wicked word again, ifyou'll only listen to me, and tell Rosalie to hold her confoundedtongue. '

Rosalie remonstrated, and I thought I should have been torn inpieces between them; but Miss Matilda having the loudest voice, hersister 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, itsbreeding and pedigree, its paces, its action, its spirit, &c. , andof her own amazing skill and courage in riding it; concluding withan assertion that she could clear a five-barred gate 'likewinking, ' that papa said she might hunt the next time the houndsmet, 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 afive-barred gate, if I tried, and papa WILL say I may hunt, andmamma 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 wouldtell her not to use such shocking words; she will call her horse amare: it is so inconceivably shocking! and then she uses suchdreadful expressions in describing it: she must have learned itfrom the grooms. It nearly puts me into fits when she begins. '

'I learned it from papa, you ass! and his jolly friends, ' said theyoung lady, vigorously cracking a hunting-whip, which shehabitually carried in her hand. 'I'm as good judge of horsefleshas the best of 'm. '

'Well, now get along, you shocking girl! I really shall take a fitif you go on in such a way. And now, Miss Grey, attend to me; I'mgoing to tell you about the ball. You must be dying to hear aboutit, I know. Oh, SUCH a ball! You never saw or heard, or read, ordreamt of anything like it in all your life. The decorations, theentertainment, the supper, the music were indescribable! and thenthe guests! There were two noblemen, three baronets, and fivetitled ladies, and other ladies and gentlemen innumerable. Theladies, of course, were of no consequence to me, except to put mein a good humour with myself, by showing how ugly and awkward mostof them were; and the best, mamma told me, --the most transcendentbeauties among them, were nothing to me. As for me, Miss Grey--I'mso 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 andWilliamson. Brown said she was sure no gentleman could set eyes onme without falling in love that minute; and so I may be allowed tobe a little vain. I know you think me a shocking, conceited, frivolous girl; but then, you know, I don't attribute it ALL to mypersonal attractions: I give some praise to the hairdresser, andsome to my exquisitely lovely dress--you must see it to-morrow--white gauze over pink satin--and so SWEETLY made! and a necklaceand bracelet of beautiful, large pearls!'

'I have no doubt you looked very charming: but should that delightyou so very much?'

'Oh, no!--not that alone: but, then, I was so much admired; and Imade so MANY conquests in that one night--you'd be astonished tohear--'

'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 madethemselves very conspicuous that night and after: for I've been totwo parties since. Unfortunately the two noblemen, Lord G--- andLord F---, were married, or I might have condescended to beparticularly gracious to THEM; as it was, I did not: though LordF---, who hates his wife, was evidently much struck with me. Heasked 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 astonishedat myself. My lord was very complimentary too--rather too much soin fact--and I thought proper to be a little haughty and repellent;but I had the pleasure of seeing his nasty, cross wife ready toperish with spite and vexation--'

'Oh, Miss Murray! you don't mean to say that such a thing couldreally give you pleasure? However cross or--'

'Well, I know it's very wrong;--but never mind! I mean to be goodsome time--only don't preach now, there's a good creature. Ihaven't told you half yet. Let me see. Oh! I was going to tellyou how many unmistakeable admirers I had:- Sir Thomas Ashby wasone, --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 Ishould not mind that after a few months' acquaintance. Then, therewas Henry Meltham, Sir Hugh's younger son; rather good-looking, anda pleasant fellow to flirt with: but BEING a younger son, that isall 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 heought to consider himself; but I fear he has forgotten to numberhumility among his stock of Christian virtues. '

'Was Mr. Hatfield at the ball?'

'Yes, to be 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 waswith difficulty he could refrain, poor man: he looked as if hewere 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 hislong-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 hisdescription 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 herdeportment there, and at the several parties she had sinceattended; and further particulars respecting Sir Thomas Ashby andMessrs. Meltham, Green, and Hatfield, and the ineffaceableimpression she had wrought upon each of them. 

'Well, which of the four do you like best?' said I, suppressing mythird or fourth yawn. 

'I detest them all!' replied she, shaking her bright ringlets invivacious scorn. 

'That means, I suppose, "I like them all"--but which most?'

'No, I really detest them all; but Harry Meltham is the handsomestand most amusing, and Mr. Hatfield the cleverest, Sir Thomas thewickedest, 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 LadyAshby of Ashby Park, if I must marry. But if I could be alwaysyoung, I would be always single. I should like to enjoy myselfthoroughly, and coquet with all the world, till I am on the vergeof being called an old maid; and then, to escape the infamy ofthat, after having made ten thousand conquests, to break all theirhearts save one, by marrying some high-born, rich, indulgenthusband, whom, on the other hand, fifty ladies were dying to have. '

'Well, as long as you entertain these views, keep single by allmeans, and never marry at all: not even to escape the infamy ofold-maidenhood. '

CHAPTER X--THE CHURCH

'Well, Miss Grey, what do you think of the new curate?' asked MissMurray, on our return from church the Sunday after therecommencement of our duties. 

'I can scarcely tell, ' was my reply: 'I have not even heard himpreach. '

'Well, but you saw him, didn't you?'

'Yes, but I cannot pretend to judge of a man's character by asingle cursory glance at his face. '

'But isn't he ugly?'

'He did not strike me as being particularly so; I don't dislikethat cast of countenance: but the only thing I particularlynoticed about him was his style of reading; which appeared to megood--infinitely better, at least, than Mr. Hatfield's. He readthe Lessons as if he were bent on giving full effect to everypassage; it seemed as if the most careless person could not havehelped attending, nor the most ignorant have failed to understand;and the prayers he read as if he were not reading at all, butpraying earnestly and sincerely from his own heart. '

'Oh, yes, that's all he is good for: he can plod through theservice 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 suchmatters. Did you see how he went out of church? stumping along--asif there were nobody there but himself--never looking to the righthand or the left, and evidently thinking of nothing but justgetting out of the church, and, perhaps, home to his dinner: hisgreat stupid head could contain no other idea. '

'I suppose you would have had him cast a glance into the squire'spew, ' said I, laughing at the vehemence of her hostility. 

'Indeed! I should have been highly indignant if he had dared to dosuch a thing!' replied she, haughtily tossing her head; then, aftera moment's reflection, she added--'Well, well! I suppose he's goodenough for his place: but I'm glad I'm not dependent on HIM foramusement--that's all. Did you see how Mr. Hatfield hurried out toget a bow from me, and be in time to put us into the carriage?'

'Yes, ' answered I; internally adding, 'and I thought it somewhatderogatory to his dignity as a clergyman to come flying from thepulpit in such eager haste to shake hands with the squire, and handhis wife and daughters into their carriage: and, moreover, I owehim a grudge for nearly shutting me out of it'; for, in fact, though I was standing before his face, close beside the carriagesteps, waiting to get in, he would persist in putting them up andclosing the door, till one of the family stopped him by calling outthat the governess was not in yet; then, without a word of apology, he departed, wishing them good-morning, and leaving the footman tofinish the business. 

Nota bene. --Mr. Hatfield never spoke to me, neither did Sir Hugh orLady Meltham, nor Mr. Harry or Miss Meltham, nor Mr. Green or hissisters, nor any other lady or gentleman who frequented thatchurch: nor, in fact, any one that visited at Horton Lodge. 

Miss Murray ordered the carriage again, in the afternoon, forherself and her sister: she said it was too cold for them to enjoythemselves in the garden; and besides, she believed Harry Melthamwould be at church. 'For, ' said she, smiling slyly at her own fairimage in the glass, 'he has been a most exemplary attendant atchurch these last few Sundays: you would think he was quite a goodChristian. And you may go with us, Miss Grey: I want you to seehim; he is so greatly improved since he returned from abroad--youcan't think! And besides, then you will have an opportunity ofseeing the beautiful Mr. Weston again, and of hearing him preach. '

I did hear him preach, and was decidedly pleased with theevangelical truth of his doctrine, as well as the earnestsimplicity of his manner, and the clearness and force of his style. It was truly refreshing to hear such a sermon, after being so longaccustomed to the dry, prosy discourses of the former curate, andthe still less edifying harangues of the rector. Mr. Hatfieldwould come sailing up the aisle, or rather sweeping along like awhirlwind, with his rich silk gown flying behind him and rustlingagainst the pew doors, mount the pulpit like a conqueror ascendinghis triumphal car; then, sinking on the velvet cushion in anattitude of studied grace, remain in silent prostration for acertain time; then mutter over a Collect, and gabble through theLord's Prayer, rise, draw off one bright lavender glove, to givethe congregation the benefit of his sparkling rings, lightly passhis fingers through his well-curled hair, flourish a cambrichandkerchief, recite a very short passage, or, perhaps, a merephrase of Scripture, as a head-piece to his discourse, and, finally, deliver a composition which, as a composition, might beconsidered good, though far too studied and too artificial to bepleasing to me: the propositions were well laid down, thearguments logically conducted; and yet, it was sometimes hard tolisten quietly throughout, without some slight demonstrations ofdisapproval or impatience. 

His favourite subjects were church discipline, rites andceremonies, apostolical succession, the duty of reverence andobedience to the clergy, the atrocious criminality of dissent, theabsolute necessity of observing all the forms of godliness, thereprehensible presumption of individuals who attempted to think forthemselves in matters connected with religion, or to be guided bytheir own interpretations of Scripture, and, occasionally (toplease his wealthy parishioners) the necessity of deferentialobedience from the poor to the rich--supporting his maxims andexhortations throughout with quotations from the Fathers: withwhom he appeared to be far better acquainted than with the Apostlesand Evangelists, and whose importance he seemed to consider atleast equal to theirs. But now and then he gave us a sermon of adifferent order--what some would call a very good one; but sunlessand severe: representing the Deity as a terrible taskmaster ratherthan a benevolent father. Yet, as I listened, I felt inclined tothink the man was sincere in all he said: he must have changed hisviews, and become decidedly religious, gloomy and austere, yetstill devout. But such illusions were usually dissipated, oncoming out of church, by hearing his voice in jocund colloquy withsome of the Melthams or Greens, or, perhaps, the Murraysthemselves; probably laughing at his own sermon, and hoping that hehad given the rascally people something to think about; perchance, exulting in the thought that old Betty Holmes would now lay asidethe sinful indulgence of her pipe, which had been her daily solacefor upwards of thirty years: that George Higgins would befrightened out of his Sabbath evening walks, and Thomas Jacksonwould be sorely troubled in his conscience, and shaken in his sureand certain hope of a joyful resurrection at the last day. 

Thus, I could not but conclude that Mr. Hatfield was one of thosewho 'bind heavy burdens, and grievous to be borne, and lay themupon men's shoulders, while they themselves will not move them withone of their fingers'; and who 'make the word of God of none effectby their traditions, teaching for doctrines the commandments ofmen. ' I was well pleased to observe that the new curate resembledhim, 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 henot greatly improved?'

'Oh, yes; very much indeed, ' replied I; for I had now discoveredthat it was Harry Meltham she meant, not Mr. Weston. Thatgentleman had eagerly come forward to speak to the young ladies: athing he would hardly have ventured to do had their mother beenpresent; he had likewise politely handed them into the carriage. He had not attempted to shut me out, like Mr. Hatfield; neither, ofcourse, had he offered me his assistance (I should not haveaccepted it, if he had), but as long as the door remained open hehad stood smirking and chatting with them, and then lifted his hatand departed to his own abode: but I had scarcely noticed him allthe time. My companions, however, had been more observant; and, aswe rolled along, they discussed between them not only his looks, words, and actions, but every feature of his face, and everyarticle of his apparel. 

'You shan't have him all to yourself, Rosalie, ' said Miss Matildaat the close of this discussion; 'I like him: I know he'd make anice, 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 muchas 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 ofyour rough, awkward manners. '

'Oh, stuff! Harry Meltham likes such manners; and so do papa'sfriends. '

'Well, you MAY captivate old men, and younger sons; but nobodyelse, I am sure, will ever take a fancy to you. '

'I don't care: I'm not always grabbing after money, like you andmamma. If my husband is able to keep a few good horses and dogs, Ishall be quite satisfied; and all the rest may go to the devil!'

'Well, if you use such shocking expressions, I'm sure no realgentleman 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 HarryMeltham admires you: I assure you he does nothing of the kind. '

Matilda was beginning an angry reply; but, happily, our journey wasnow at an end; and the contention was cut short by the footmanopening the carriage-door, and letting down the steps for ourdescent. 

CHAPTER XI--THE COTTAGERS

As I had now only one regular pupil--though she contrived to giveme as much trouble as three or four ordinary ones, and though hersister still took lessons in German and drawing--I had considerablymore time at my own disposal than I had ever been blessed withbefore, since I had taken upon me the governess's yoke; which timeI devoted partly to correspondence with my friends, partly toreading, study, and the practice of music, singing, &c. , partly towandering in the grounds or adjacent fields, with my pupils if theywanted me, alone if they did not. 

Often, when they had no more agreeable occupation at hand, theMisses Murray would amuse themselves with visiting the poorcottagers on their father's estate, to receive their flatteringhomage, or to hear the old stories or gossiping news of thegarrulous old women; or, perhaps, to enjoy the purer pleasure ofmaking the poor people happy with their cheering presence and theiroccasional gifts, so easily bestowed, so thankfully received. Sometimes, I was called upon to accompany one or both of thesisters in these visits; and sometimes I was desired to go alone, to fulfil some promise which they had been more ready to make thanto perform; to carry some small donation, or read to one who wassick or seriously disposed: and thus I made a few acquaintancesamong the cottagers; and, occasionally, I went to see them on myown account. 

I generally had more satisfaction in going alone than with eitherof the young ladies; for they, chiefly owing to their defectiveeducation, comported themselves towards their inferiors in a mannerthat was highly disagreeable for me to witness. They never, inthought, exchanged places with them; and, consequently, had noconsideration for their feelings, regarding them as an order ofbeings entirely different from themselves. They would watch thepoor creatures at their meals, making uncivil remarks about theirfood, and their manner of eating; they would laugh at their simplenotions and provincial expressions, till some of them scarcelydurst venture to speak; they would call the grave elderly men andwomen old fools and silly old blockheads to their faces: and allthis without meaning to offend. I could see that the people wereoften hurt and annoyed by such conduct, though their fear of the'grand ladies' prevented them from testifying any resentment; butTHEY never perceived it. They thought that, as these cottagerswere poor and untaught, they must be stupid and brutish; and aslong as they, their superiors, condescended to talk to them, and togive them shillings and half-crowns, or articles of clothing, theyhad a right to amuse themselves, even at their expense; and thepeople must adore them as angels of light, condescending tominister to their necessities, and enlighten their humbledwellings. 

I made many and various attempts to deliver my pupils from thesedelusive notions without alarming their pride--which was easilyoffended, 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 womanlyage and lady-like exterior better things were expected: yet shewas as provokingly careless and inconsiderate as a giddy child oftwelve. 

One bright day in the last week of February, I was walking in thepark, enjoying the threefold luxury of solitude, a book, andpleasant weather; for Miss Matilda had set out on her daily ride, and Miss Murray was gone in the carriage with her mamma to pay somemorning calls. But it struck me that I ought to leave theseselfish pleasures, and the park with its glorious canopy of brightblue sky, the west wind sounding through its yet leafless branches, the snow-wreaths still lingering in its hollows, but melting fastbeneath the sun, and the graceful deer browsing on its moistherbage already assuming the freshness and verdure of spring--andgo to the cottage of one Nancy Brown, a widow, whose son was atwork all day in the fields, and who was afflicted with aninflammation in the eyes; which had for some time incapacitated herfrom reading: to her own great grief, for she was a woman of aserious, thoughtful turn of mind. I accordingly went, and foundher alone, as usual, in her little, close, dark cottage, redolentof smoke and confined air, but as tidy and clean as she could makeit. She was seated beside her little fire (consisting of a few redcinders and a bit of stick), busily knitting, with a smallsackcloth cushion at her feet, placed for the accommodation of hergentle friend the cat, who was seated thereon, with her long tailhalf encircling her velvet paws, and her half-closed eyes dreamilygazing 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 adeal easier i' my mind nor I have been, ' replied she, rising towelcome me with a contented smile; which I was glad to see, forNancy had been somewhat afflicted with religious melancholy. Icongratulated her upon the change. She agreed that it was a greatblessing, and expressed herself 'right down thankful for it';adding, 'If it please God to spare my sight, and make me so as Ican 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 andread to you now and then, when I have a little time to spare. '

With expressions of grateful pleasure, the poor woman moved to getme a chair; but, as I saved her the trouble, she busied herselfwith stirring the fire, and adding a few more sticks to thedecaying embers; and then, taking her well-used Bible from theshelf, dusted it carefully, and gave it me. On my asking if therewas 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 tohear that chapter in the First Epistle of St. John, that says, "Godis love, and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God inhim. "'

With a little searching, I found these words in the fourth chapter. When I came to the seventh verse she interrupted me, and, withneedless apologies for such a liberty, desired me to read it veryslowly, 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 theseverses for an hour, and be all the better for it; and I wouldrather read them slowly than not. '

Accordingly, I finished the chapter as slowly as need be, and atthe same time as impressively as I could; my auditor listened mostattentively all the while, and sincerely thanked me when I haddone. I sat still about half a minute to give her time to reflectupon it; when, somewhat to my surprise, she broke the pause byasking me how I liked Mr. Weston?

'I don't know, ' I replied, a little startled by the suddenness ofthe 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 theHall. '

'Ah; they're nice, kind young ladies; but they can't talk as hedoes. '

'Then he comes to see you, Nancy?'

'He does, Miss; and I'se thankful for it. He comes to see all uspoor 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 asmuch for th' Rector--there is 'at says they're fair feared on him. When he comes into a house, they say he's sure to find summutwrong, 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. Andvery oft he comes o' purpose to reprove folk for not coming tochurch, or not kneeling an' standing when other folk does, or goingto the Methody chapel, or summut o' that sort: but I can't say 'athe 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 forhim--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 getno comfort of it at all. That very chapter 'at you've just beenreading troubled me as much as aught--"He that loveth not, knowethnot God. " It seemed fearsome to me; for I felt that I lovedneither God nor man as I should do, and could not, if I tried everso. And th' chapter afore, where it says, --"He that is born of Godcannot commit sin. " And another place where it says, --"Love is thefulfilling of the Law. " And many, many others, Miss: I shouldfair weary you out, if I was to tell them all. But all seemed tocondemn me, and to show me 'at I was not in the right way; and as Iknew not how to get into it, I sent our Bill to beg MaisterHatfield 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 helike gave a sort of a whistle, and I saw a bit of a smile on hisface; and he said, "Oh, it's all stuff! You've been among theMethodists, my good woman. " But I telled him I'd never been nearthe Methodies. And then he said, --"Well, " says he, "you must cometo 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 myhealth; but this very cold winter weather I hardly durst venture sofar--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 walkabout the house well enough; why can't you walk to church? Thefact is, " says he, "you're getting too fond of your ease. It'salways easy to find excuses for shirking one's duty. "

'But then, you know, Miss Grey, it wasn't so. However, I telledhim 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 thatthe love of God is shed abroad in my heart; and if I can get nogood by reading my Bible an' saying my prayers at home, what goodshall I get by going to church?"'

'"The church, " says he, "is the place appointed by God for Hisworship. It's your duty to go there as often as you can. If youwant comfort, you must seek it in the path of duty, "--an' a dealmore 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 Icould, and bring my prayer-book with me, an' read up all thesponsers after the clerk, an' stand, an' kneel, an' sit, an' do allas 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 andcan't manage it, you must be one of those that seek to enter in atthe strait gate and shall not be able. "

'An' then he asked me if I'd seen any of the ladies o' th' Hallabout that mornin'; so I telled him where I had seen the youngmisses go on th' Moss Lane;--an' he kicked my poor cat right acrossth' floor, an' went after 'em as gay as a lark: but I was verysad. That last word o' his fair sunk into my heart, an' lay therelike a lump o' lead, till I was weary to bear it. 

'Howsever, I follered his advice: I thought he meant it all forth' best, though he HAD a queer way with him. But you know, Miss, he's rich an' young, and such like cannot right understand thethoughts of a poor old woman such as me. But, howsever, I did mybest 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 tochurch 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 aboutmy trouble o' mind;--and to tell the truth, Miss Grey, I don'tthink 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 mysoul. I hearkened and hearkened the ministers, and read an' readat my prayer-book; but it was all like sounding brass and atinkling cymbal: the sermons I couldn't understand, an' th'prayer-book only served to show me how wicked I was, that I couldread such good words an' never be no better for it, and oftens feelit a sore labour an' a heavy task beside, instead of a blessing anda privilege as all good Christians does. It seemed like as allwere barren an' dark to me. And then, them dreadful words, "Manyshall seek to enter in, and shall not be able. " They like as theyfair dried up my sperrit. 

'But one Sunday, when Maister Hatfield gave out about thesacrament, I noticed where he said, "If there be any of you thatcannot quiet his own conscience, but requireth further comfort orcounsel, let him come to me, or some other discreet and learnedminister of God's word, and open his grief!" So next Sundaymorning, afore service, I just looked into the vestry, an' began a-talking to th' Rector again. I hardly could fashion to take such aliberty, but I thought when my soul was at stake I shouldn't stickat 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'vesaid before. Take the sacrament, of course, and go on doing yourduty; and if that won't serve you, nothing will. So don't botherme any more. "

'So then, I went away. But I heard Maister Weston--Maister Westonwas there, Miss--this was his first Sunday at Horton, you know, an'he was i' th' vestry in his surplice, helping th' Rector on withhis 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, andI 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 anddrinking to my own damnation all th' time. So I went home, sorelytroubled. 

'But next day, afore I'd gotten fettled up--for indeed, Miss, I'dno heart to sweeping an' fettling, an' washing pots; so I sat medown i' th' muck--who should come in but Maister Weston! I startedsiding stuff then, an' sweeping an' doing; and I expected he'dbegin 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 aquiet 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 saysI, "I wonder, sir, you should give yourself that trouble, to comeso far to see a 'canting old fool, ' such as me. "

'He seemed taken aback at that; but he would fain persuade me 'atthe Rector was only in jest; and when that wouldn't do, he says, "Well, Nancy, you shouldn't think so much about it: Mr. Hatfieldwas a little out of humour just then: you know we're none of usperfect--even Moses spoke unadvisedly with his lips. But now sitdown a minute, if you can spare the time, and tell me all yourdoubts 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 Ihad thought him not so pleasant-looking as him, and rather a bitcrossish, at first, to look at; but he spake so civil like--andwhen th' cat, poor thing, jumped on to his knee, he only strokedher, 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, likeas it might be in scorn and anger, poor thing. But you can'texpect a cat to know manners like a Christian, you know, MissGrey. '

'No; of course not, Nancy. But what did Mr. Weston say then?'

'He said nought; but he listened to me as steady an' patient ascould 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 topersevere in doing your duty; but in advising you to go to churchand attend to the service, and so on, he didn't mean that was thewhole of a Christian's duty: he only thought you might there learnwhat more was to be done, and be led to take delight in thoseexercises, instead of finding them a task and a burden. And if youhad asked him to explain those words that trouble you so much, Ithink he would have told you, that if many shall seek to enter inat the strait gate and shall not be able, it is their own sins thathinder them; just as a man with a large sack on his back might wishto pass through a narrow doorway, and find it impossible to do sounless he would leave his sack behind him. But you, Nancy, I daresay, have no sins that you would not gladly throw aside, if youknew how?"

'"Indeed, sir, you speak truth, " said I. 

'"Well, " says he, "you know the first and great commandment--andthe second, which is like unto it--on which two commandments hangall the law and the prophets? You say you cannot love God; but itstrikes me that if you rightly consider who and what He is, youcannot help it. He is your father, your best friend: everyblessing, everything good, pleasant, or useful, comes from Him; andeverything evil, everything you have reason to hate, to shun, or tofear, comes from Satan--HIS enemy as well as ours. And for THIScause was God manifest in the flesh, that He might destroy theworks of the Devil: in one word, God is LOVE; and the more of lovewe have within us, the nearer we are to Him and the more of Hisspirit we possess. "

'"Well, sir, " I said, "if I can always think on these things, Ithink 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, whohave so much of what is evil about them, and whose faults so oftenawaken the evil that lingers within ourselves; but remember that HEmade them, and HE loves them; and whosoever loveth him that begat, loveth him that is begotten also. And if God so loveth us, that Hegave His only begotten Son to die for us, we ought also to love oneanother. But if you cannot feel positive affection for those whodo not care for you, you can at least try to do to them as youwould they should do unto you: you can endeavour to pity theirfailings and excuse their offences, and to do all the good you canto those about you. And if you accustom yourself to this, Nancy, the very effort itself will make you love them in some degree--tosay nothing of the goodwill your kindness would beget in them, though they might have little else that is good about them. If welove God and wish to serve Him, let us try to be like Him, to doHis work, to labour for His glory--which is the good of man--tohasten the coming of His kingdom, which is the peace and happinessof all the world: however powerless we may seem to be, in doingall the good we can through life, the humblest of us may do muchtowards it: and let us dwell in love, that He may dwell in us andwe in Him. The more happiness we bestow, the more we shallreceive, even here; and the greater will be our reward in heavenwhen we rest from our labours. " I believe, Miss, them is his verywords, for I've thought 'em ower many a time. An' then he tookthat Bible, an' read bits here and there, an' explained 'em asclear as the day: and it seemed like as a new light broke in on mysoul; an' I felt fair aglow about my heart, an' only wished poorBill an' all the world could ha' been there, an' heard it all, andrejoiced wi' me. 

'After he was gone, Hannah Rogers, one o' th' neighbours, came inand wanted me to help her to wash. I telled her I couldn't justthen, for I hadn't set on th' potaties for th' dinner, nor washedup th' breakfast stuff yet. So then she began a-calling me for mynasty idle ways. I was a little bit vexed at first, but I neversaid nothing wrong to her: I only telled her like all in a quietway, 'at I'd had th' new parson to see me; but I'd get done asquick as ever I could, an' then come an' help her. So then shesoftened down; and my heart like as it warmed towards her, an' in abit we was very good friends. An' so it is, Miss Grey, "a softanswer turneth away wrath; but grievous words stir up anger. " Itisn'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 hasother folks to see, and other things to do--God bless him! An'that next Sunday he preached SUCH a sermon! His text was, "Comeunto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give yourest, " and them two blessed verses that follows. You wasn't there, Miss, you was with your friends then--but it made me SO happy! AndI AM happy now, thank God! an' I take a pleasure, now, in doinglittle 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 hesaid. You see, Miss, I'm knitting a pair o' stockings now;--they're for Thomas Jackson: he's a queerish old body, an' we'vehad many a bout at threaping, one anent t'other; an' at times we'vediffered sorely. So I thought I couldn't do better nor knit him apair 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 Westonsaid. '

'Well, I'm very glad to see you so happy, Nancy, and so wise: butI must go now; I shall be wanted at the Hall, ' said I; and biddingher 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 thelast stage of consumption. The young ladies had been to see him, and somehow a promise of reading had been extracted from them; butit was too much trouble, so they begged me to do it instead. Iwent, willingly enough; and there too I was gratified with thepraises of Mr. Weston, both from the sick man and his wife. Theformer told me that he derived great comfort and benefit from thevisits of the new parson, who frequently came to see him, and was'another guess sort of man' to Mr. Hatfield; who, before theother's arrival at Horton, had now and then paid him a visit; onwhich occasions he would always insist upon having the cottage-doorkept open, to admit the fresh air for his own convenience, withoutconsidering how it might injure the sufferer; and having opened hisprayer-book and hastily read over a part of the Service for theSick, would hurry away again: if he did not stay to administersome harsh rebuke to the afflicted wife, or to make somethoughtless, not to say heartless, observation, rather calculatedto increase than diminish the troubles of the suffering pair. 

'Whereas, ' said the man, 'Maister Weston 'ull pray with me quite ina different fashion, an' talk to me as kind as owt; an' oft read tome too, an' sit beside me just like a brother. '

'Just for all the world!' exclaimed his wife; 'an' about a threewik sin', when he seed how poor Jem shivered wi' cold, an' whatpitiful fires we kept, he axed if wer stock of coals was nearlydone. I telled him it was, an' we was ill set to get more: butyou know, mum, I didn't think o' him helping us; but, howsever, hesent us a sack o' coals next day; an' we've had good fires eversin': and a great blessing it is, this winter time. But that'shis way, Miss Grey: when he comes into 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 saysnowt 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 hadfrequently been styled a vulgar brute by the amiable Miss Murray, because he wore a silver watch, and clothes not quite so bright andfresh as Mr. Hatfield's. 

In returning to the Lodge I felt very happy, and thanked God that Ihad now something to think about; something to dwell on as a relieffrom 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 onecreature to whom I could open my heart, or freely speak my thoughtswith any hope of sympathy, or even comprehension: never one, unless it were poor Nancy Brown, with whom I could enjoy a singlemoment of real social intercourse, or whose conversation wascalculated to render me better, wiser, or happier than before; orwho, as far as I could see, could be greatly benefited by mine. Myonly companions had been unamiable children, and ignorant, wrong-headed girls; from whose fatiguing folly, unbroken solitude wasoften a relief most earnestly desired and dearly prized. But to berestricted to such associates was a serious evil, both in itsimmediate effects and the consequences that were likely to ensue. Never a new idea or stirring thought came to me from without; andsuch as rose within me were, for the most part, miserably crushedat once, or doomed to sicken or fade away, because they could notsee the light. 

Habitual associates are known to exercise a great influence overeach other's minds and manners. Those whose actions are for everbefore our eyes, whose words are ever in our ears, will naturallylead us, albeit against our will, slowly, gradually, imperceptibly, perhaps, to act and speak as they do. I will not presume to sayhow far this irresistible power of assimilation extends; but if onecivilised man were doomed to pass a dozen years amid a race ofintractable savages, unless he had power to improve them, I greatlyquestion whether, at the close of that period, he would not havebecome, at least, a barbarian himself. And I, as I could not makemy young companions better, feared exceedingly that they would makeme worse--would gradually bring my feelings, habits, capacities, tothe level of their own; without, however, imparting to me theirlightheartedness and cheerful vivacity. 

Already, I seemed to feel my intellect deteriorating, my heartpetrifying, my soul contracting; and I trembled lest my very moralperceptions should become deadened, my distinctions of right andwrong confounded, and all my better faculties be sunk, at last, beneath the baneful influence of such a mode of life. The grossvapours of earth were gathering around me, and closing in upon myinward heaven; and thus it was that Mr. Weston rose at length uponme, appearing like the morning star in my horizon, to save me fromthe fear of utter darkness; and I rejoiced that I had now a subjectfor contemplation that was above me, not beneath. I was glad tosee that all the world was not made up of Bloomfields, Murrays, Hatfields, Ashbys, &c. ; and that human excellence was not a meredream of the imagination. When we hear a little good and no harmof a person, it is easy and pleasant to imagine more: in short, itis needless to analyse all my thoughts; but Sunday was now become aday of peculiar delight to me (I was now almost broken-in to theback corner in the carriage), for I liked to hear him--and I likedto see him, too; though I knew he was not handsome, or even what iscalled agreeable, in outward aspect; but, certainly, he was notugly. 

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 hairwas not carefully curled, like Mr. Hatfield's, but simply brushedaside over a broad white forehead; the eyebrows, I suppose, weretoo projecting, but from under those dark brows there gleamed aneye of singular power, brown in colour, not large, and somewhatdeep-set, but strikingly brilliant, and full of expression; therewas character, too, in the mouth, something that bespoke a man offirm purpose and an habitual thinker; and when he smiled--but Iwill not speak of that yet, for, at the time I mention, I had neverseen him smile: and, indeed, his general appearance did notimpress me with the idea of a man given to such a relaxation, norof such an individual as the cottagers described him. I had earlyformed my opinion of him; and, in spite of Miss Murray'sobjurgations: was fully convinced that he was a man of strongsense, firm faith, and ardent piety, but thoughtful and stern: andwhen I found that, to his other good qualities, was added that oftrue benevolence and gentle, considerate kindness, the discovery, perhaps, delighted me the more, as I had not been prepared toexpect it. 

CHAPTER XII--THE SHOWER

The next visit I paid to Nancy Brown was in the second week inMarch: for, though I had many spare minutes during the day, Iseldom could look upon an hour as entirely my own; since, whereeverything was left to the caprices of Miss Matilda and her sister, there could be no order or regularity. Whatever occupation Ichose, when not actually busied about them or their concerns, Ihad, as it were, to keep my loins girded, my shoes on my feet, andmy staff in my hand; for not to be immediately forthcoming whencalled for, was regarded as a grave and inexcusable offence: notonly by my pupils and their mother, but by the very servant, whocame in breathless haste to call me, exclaiming, 'You're to go tothe 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; forMatilda was preparing for a long ride, and Rosalie was dressing fora dinner-party at Lady Ashby's: so I took the opportunity ofrepairing to the widow's cottage, where I found her in some anxietyabout her cat, which had been absent all day. I comforted her withas many anecdotes of that animal's roving propensities as I couldrecollect. 'I'm feared o' th' gamekeepers, ' said she: 'that's all'at I think on. If th' young gentlemen had been at home, I shoulda' 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 thatto be feared on now. ' Nancy's eyes were better, but still far fromwell: she had been trying to make a Sunday shirt for her son, buttold 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 itsadly. So I proposed to help her a little, after I had read toher, for I had plenty of time that evening, and need not returntill dusk. She thankfully accepted the offer. 'An' you'll be abit o' company for me too, Miss, ' said she; 'I like as I feellonesome without my cat. ' But when I had finished reading, anddone the half of a seam, with Nancy's capacious brass thimblefitted on to my finger by means of a roll of paper, I was disturbedby 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: thenseeing me, he acknowledged my presence by a slight bow. I shouldhave been invisible to Hatfield, or any other gentleman of thoseparts. '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 weepfor 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 itthere again: he would have done so to-day, if I had not been intime to stop him. I believe it is raining, Miss Grey, ' added he, more quietly, observing that I had put aside my work, and waspreparing to depart. 'Don't let me disturb you--I shan't stay twominutes. '

'You'll BOTH stay while this shower gets owered, ' said Nancy, asshe 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 mywork to the window, where she had the goodness to suffer me toremain unmolested, while she got a brush to remove the cat's hairsfrom Mr. Weston's coat, carefully wiped the rain from his hat, andgave the cat its supper, busily talking all the time: now thankingher clerical friend for what he had done; now wondering how the cathad found out the warren; and now lamenting the probableconsequences of such a discovery. He listened with a quiet, good-natured smile, and at length took a seat in compliance with herpressing invitations, but repeated that he did not mean to stay. 

'I have another place to go to, ' said he, 'and I see' (glancing atthe 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' nowshe's helping me with a shirt for our Bill--but I'm feared she'llbe cold there. Won't you come to th' fire, Miss?'

'No, thank you, Nancy, I'm quite warm. I must go as soon as thisshower is over. '

'Oh, Miss! You said you could stop while dusk!' cried theprovoking old woman, and Mr. Weston seized his hat. 

'Nay, sir, ' exclaimed she, 'pray don't go now, while it rains sofast. '

'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 harmin 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 tochange the present subject, whether he had anything particular tosay or not, 'I wish you would make my peace with the squire, whenyou see him. He was by when I rescued Nancy's cat, and did notquite approve of the deed. I told him I thought he might betterspare all his rabbits than she her cat, for which audaciousassertion he treated me to some rather ungentlemanly language; andI fear I retorted a trifle too warmly. '

'Oh, lawful sir! I hope you didn't fall out wi' th' maister forsake 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 saidnothing VERY uncivil; and I suppose Mr. Murray is accustomed to userather 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 beyondthis; and you would not have me to return in the dark: besides, ithas nearly done raining now--so good-evening, Nancy. Good-evening, Miss Grey. '

'Good-evening, Mr. Weston; but don't depend upon me for making yourpeace with Mr. Murray, for I never see him--to speak to. '

'Don't you; it can't be helped then, ' replied he, in dolorousresignation: then, with a peculiar half-smile, he added, 'Butnever 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 badeNancy good-evening; checking her too lively gratitude by theundeniable assurance that I had only done for her what she wouldhave done for me, if she had been in my place and I in hers. Ihastened back to Horton Lodge, where, having entered theschoolroom, I found the tea-table all in confusion, the trayflooded with slops, and Miss Matilda in a most ferocious humour. 

'Miss Grey, whatever have you been about? I've had tea half anhour ago, and had to make it myself, and drink it all alone! Iwish you would come in sooner!'

'I've been to see Nancy Brown. I thought you would not be backfrom your ride. '

'How could I ride in the rain, I should like to know. That damnedpelting shower was vexatious enough--coming on when I was just infull swing: and then to come and find nobody in to tea! and youknow I can't make the tea as I like it. '

'I didn't think of the shower, ' replied I (and, indeed, the thoughtof its driving her home had never entered my head). 

'No, of course; you were under shelter yourself, and you neverthought of other people. '

I bore her coarse reproaches with astonishing equanimity, even withcheerfulness; for I was sensible that I had done more good to NancyBrown than harm to her: and perhaps some other thoughts assistedto keep up my spirits, and impart a relish to the cup of cold, overdrawn tea, and a charm to the otherwise unsightly table; and--Ihad almost said--to Miss Matilda's unamiable face. But she soonbetook herself to the stables, and left me to the quiet enjoymentof my solitary meal. 

CHAPTER XIII--THE PRIMROSES

Miss Murray now always went twice to church, for she so lovedadmiration that she could not bear to lose a single opportunity ofobtaining it; and she was so sure of it wherever she showedherself, that, whether Harry Meltham and Mr. Green were there ornot, there was certain to be somebody present who would not beinsensible to her charms, besides the Rector, whose officialcapacity generally obliged him to attend. Usually, also, if theweather 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 companythat generally enlivened the first mile of the journey in walkingfrom the church to Mr. Green's park-gates: near which commencedthe private road to Horton Lodge, which lay in the oppositedirection, while the highway conducted in a straightforward courseto the still more distant mansion of Sir Hugh Meltham. Thus therewas always a chance of being accompanied, so far, either by HarryMeltham, with or without Miss Meltham, or Mr. Green, with perhapsone or both of his sisters, and any gentlemen visitors they mighthave. 

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 togo alone, I took my seat in the carriage. I liked walking better, but a sense of reluctance to obtrude my presence on anyone who didnot desire it, always kept me passive on these and similaroccasions; and I never inquired into the causes of their varyingwhims. Indeed, this was the best policy--for to submit and obligewas the governess's part, to consult their own pleasure was that ofthe pupils. But when I did walk, the first half of journey wasgenerally a great nuisance to me. As none of the before-mentionedladies and gentlemen ever noticed me, it was disagreeable to walkbeside them, as if listening to what they said, or wishing to bethought one of them, while they talked over me, or across; and iftheir eyes, in speaking, chanced to fall on me, it seemed as ifthey looked on vacancy--as if they either did not see me, or werevery desirous to make it appear so. It was disagreeable, too, towalk behind, and thus appear to acknowledge my own inferiority;for, in truth, I considered myself pretty nearly as good as thebest of them, and wished them to know that I did so, and not toimagine that I looked upon myself as a mere domestic, who knew herown place too well to walk beside such fine ladies and gentlemen asthey were--though her young ladies might choose to have her withthem, and even condescend to converse with her when no bettercompany were at hand. Thus--I am almost ashamed to confess it--butindeed I gave myself no little trouble in my endeavours (if I didkeep up with them) to appear perfectly unconscious or regardless oftheir presence, as if I were wholly absorbed in my own reflections, or the contemplation of surrounding objects; or, if I lingeredbehind, it was some bird or insect, some tree or flower, thatattracted my attention, and having duly examined that, I wouldpursue my walk alone, at a leisurely pace, until my pupils hadbidden adieu to their companions and turned off into the quietprivate road. 

One such occasion I particularly well remember; it was a lovelyafternoon about the close of March; Mr. Green and his sisters hadsent their carriage back empty, in order to enjoy the brightsunshine and balmy air in a sociable walk home along with theirvisitors, Captain Somebody and Lieutenant Somebody-else (a coupleof military fops), and the Misses Murray, who, of course, contrivedto join them. Such a party was highly agreeable to Rosalie; butnot finding it equally suitable to my taste, I presently fell back, and began to botanise and entomologise along the green banks andbudding hedges, till the company was considerably in advance of me, and I could hear the sweet song of the happy lark; then my spiritof misanthropy began to melt away beneath the soft, pure air andgenial sunshine; but sad thoughts of early childhood, and yearningsfor departed joys, or for a brighter future lot, arose instead. Asmy eyes wandered over the steep banks covered with young grass andgreen-leaved plants, and surmounted by budding hedges, I longedintensely for some familiar flower that might recall the woodydales or green hill-sides of home: the brown moorlands, of course, were out of the question. Such a discovery would make my eyes gushout with water, no doubt; but that was one of my greatestenjoyments now. At length I descried, high up between the twistedroots of an oak, three lovely primroses, peeping so sweetly fromtheir hiding-place that the tears already started at the sight; butthey grew so high above me, that I tried in vain to gather one ortwo, to dream over and to carry with me: I could not reach themunless I climbed the bank, which I was deterred from doing byhearing a footstep at that moment behind me, and was, therefore, about to turn away, when I was startled by the words, 'Allow me togather them for you, Miss Grey, ' spoken in the grave, low tones ofa well-known voice. Immediately the flowers were gathered, and inmy hand. It was Mr. Weston, of course--who else would troublehimself to do so much for ME?

'I thanked him; whether warmly or coldly, I cannot tell: butcertain I am that I did not express half the gratitude I felt. Itwas foolish, perhaps, to feel any gratitude at all; but it seemedto me, at that moment, as if this were a remarkable instance of hisgood-nature: an act of kindness, which I could not repay, butnever should forget: so utterly unaccustomed was I to receive suchcivilities, so little prepared to expect them from anyone withinfifty miles of Horton Lodge. Yet this did not prevent me fromfeeling a little uncomfortable in his presence; and I proceeded tofollow my pupils at a much quicker pace than before; though, perhaps, if Mr. Weston had taken the hint, and let me pass withoutanother word, I might have repeated it an hour after: but he didnot. A somewhat rapid walk for me was but an ordinary pace forhim. 

'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 mypace; but next moment regretted having done so: my companion didnot speak; and I had nothing in the world to say, and feared hemight be in the same predicament. At length, however, he broke thepause by asking, with a certain quiet abruptness peculiar tohimself, 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, bluebells, and heath-blossoms. '

'Not violets?'

'No; because, as you say, I have no particular associationsconnected with them; for there are no sweet violets among the hillsand 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, orhowever seldom visited, still it is something to look to. '

'It is so much that I think I could not live without it, ' repliedI, with an enthusiasm of which I immediately repented; for Ithought it must have sounded essentially silly. 

'Oh, yes, you could, ' said he, with a thoughtful smile. 'The tiesthat bind us to life are tougher than you imagine, or than anyonecan who has not felt how roughly they may be pulled withoutbreaking. You might be miserable without a home, but even YOUcould live; and not so miserably as you suppose. The human heartis like india-rubber; a little swells it, but a great deal will notburst it. If "little more than nothing will disturb it, littleless than all things will suffice" to break it. As in the outermembers of our frame, there is a vital power inherent in itselfthat strengthens it against external violence. Every blow thatshakes it will serve to harden it against a future stroke; asconstant labour thickens the skin of the hand, and strengthens itsmuscles instead of wasting them away: so that a day of arduoustoil, that might excoriate a lady's palm, would make no sensibleimpression on that of a hardy ploughman. 

'I speak from experience--partly my own. There was a time when Ithought as you do--at least, I was fully persuaded that home andits affections were the only things that made life tolerable:that, if deprived of these, existence would become a burden hard tobe endured; but now I have no home--unless you would dignify my twohired rooms at Horton by such a name;--and not twelve months ago Ilost the last and dearest of my early friends; and yet, not only Ilive, but I am not wholly destitute of hope and comfort, even forthis life: though I must acknowledge that I can seldom enter evenan humble cottage at the close of day, and see its inhabitantspeaceably gathered around their cheerful hearth, without a feelingALMOST of envy at their domestic enjoyment. '

'You don't know what happiness lies before you yet, ' said I: 'youare now only in the commencement of your journey. '

'The best of happiness, ' replied he, 'is mine already--the powerand the will to be useful. '

We now approached a stile communicating with a footpath thatconducted to a farm-house, where, I suppose, Mr. Weston purposed tomake himself 'useful;' for he presently took leave of me, crossedthe stile, and traversed the path with his usual firm, elastictread, leaving me to ponder his words as I continued my coursealone. I had heard before that he had lost his mother not manymonths before he came. She then was the last and dearest of hisearly friends; and he had NO HOME. I pitied him from my heart: Ialmost wept for sympathy. And this, I thought, accounted for theshade of premature thoughtfulness that so frequently clouded hisbrow, and obtained for him the reputation of a morose and sullendisposition with the charitable Miss Murray and all her kin. 'But, ' thought I, 'he is not so miserable as I should be under sucha deprivation: he leads an active life; and a wide field foruseful exertion lies before him. He can MAKE friends; and he canmake a home too, if he pleases; and, doubtless, he will please sometime. God grant the partner of that home may be worthy of hischoice, and make it a happy one--such a home as he deserves tohave! And how delightful it would be to--' But no matter what Ithought. 

I began this book with the intention of concealing nothing; thatthose who liked might have the benefit of perusing a fellow-creature's heart: but we have some thoughts that all the angels inheaven are welcome to behold, but not our brother-men--not even thebest 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 Ihastened to follow them. I found the two girls warm in an animateddiscussion on the respective merits of the two young officers; buton seeing me Rosalie broke off in the middle of a sentence toexclaim, with malicious glee -

'Oh-ho, Miss Grey! you're come at last, are you? No WONDER youlingered so long behind; and no WONDER you always stand up sovigorously for Mr. Weston when I abuse him. Ah-ha! I see it allnow!'

'Now, come, Miss Murray, don't be foolish, ' said I, attempting agood-natured laugh; 'you know such nonsense can make no impressionon me. '

But she still went on talking such intolerable stuff--her sisterhelping her with appropriate fiction coined for the occasion--thatI thought it necessary to say something in my own justification. 

'What folly all this is!' I exclaimed. 'If Mr. Weston's roadhappened to be the same as mine for a few yards, and if he chose toexchange a word or two in passing, what is there so remarkable inthat? 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, withexultant laughter. 'Ah! now, Matilda, I've found out why she's sofond of going to Nancy Brown's! She goes there to flirt with Mr. Weston. '

'Really, that is not worth contradicting--I only saw him thereonce, I tell you--and how could I know he was coming?'

Irritated as I was at their foolish mirth and vexatiousimputations, the uneasiness did not continue long: when they hadhad their laugh out, they returned again to the captain andlieutenant; and, while they disputed and commented upon them, myindignation rapidly cooled; the cause of it was quickly forgotten, and I turned my thoughts into a pleasanter channel. Thus weproceeded up the park, and entered the hall; and as I ascended thestairs to my own chamber, I had but one thought within me: myheart was filled to overflowing with one single earnest wish. Having entered the room, and shut the door, I fell upon my kneesand offered up a fervent but not impetuous prayer: 'Thy will bedone, ' I strove to say throughout; but, 'Father, all things arepossible with Thee, and may it be Thy will, ' was sure to follow. That wish--that prayer--both men and women would have scorned mefor--'But, Father, THOU wilt NOT despise!' I said, and felt that itwas true. It seemed to me that another's welfare was at least asardently implored for as my own; nay, even THAT was the principalobject of my heart's desire. I might have been deceiving myself;but that idea gave me confidence to ask, and power to hope I didnot ask in vain. As for the primroses, I kept two of them in aglass in my room until they were completely withered, and thehousemaid threw them out; and the petals of the other I pressedbetween the leaves of my Bible--I have them still, and mean to keepthem always. 

CHAPTER XIV--THE RECTOR

The following day was as fine as the preceding one. Soon afterbreakfast Miss Matilda, having galloped and blundered through a fewunprofitable lessons, and vengeably thumped the piano for an hour, in a terrible humour with both me and it, because her mamma wouldnot give her a holiday, had betaken herself to her favourite placesof resort, the yards, the stables, and the dog-kennels; and MissMurray was gone forth to enjoy a quiet ramble with a newfashionable novel for her companion, leaving me in the schoolroomhard at work upon a water-colour drawing which I had promised to dofor her, and which she insisted upon my finishing that day. 

At my feet lay a little rough terrier. It was the property of MissMatilda; but she hated the animal, and intended to sell it, alleging that it was quite spoiled. It was really an excellent dogof its kind; but she affirmed it was fit for nothing, and had noteven the sense to know its own mistress. 

The fact was she had purchased it when but a small puppy, insistingat first that no one should touch it but herself; but soon becomingtired of so helpless and troublesome a nursling, she had gladlyyielded to my entreaties to be allowed to take charge of it; and I, by carefully nursing the little creature from infancy toadolescence, of course, had obtained its affections: a reward Ishould have greatly valued, and looked upon as far outweighing allthe trouble I had had with it, had not poor Snap's gratefulfeelings exposed him to many a harsh word and many a spiteful kickand 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 doghate me by cruel treatment, and she would not propitiate him bykindness. 

However, while I thus sat, working away with my pencil, Mrs. Murraycame, half-sailing, half-bustling, into the room. 

'Miss Grey, ' she began, --'dear! how can you sit at your drawingsuch a day as this?' (She thought I was doing it for my ownpleasure. ) 'I WONDER you don't put on your bonnet and go out withthe young ladies. '

'I think, ma'am, Miss Murray is reading; and Miss Matilda isamusing herself with her dogs. '

'If you would try to amuse Miss Matilda yourself a little more, Ithink she would not be driven to seek amusement in thecompanionship of dogs and horses and grooms, so much as she is; andif you would be a little more cheerful and conversable with MissMurray, she would not so often go wandering in the fields with abook in her hand. However, I don't want to vex you, ' added she, seeing, I suppose, that my cheeks burned and my hand trembled withsome unamiable emotion. 'Do, pray, try not to be so touchy--there's no speaking to you else. And tell me if you know whereRosalie 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 shouldshe go into the fields and lanes? And how is it that that Mr. Hatfield so often finds her out? She told me last week he'd walkedhis horse by her side all up Moss Lane; and now I'm sure it was heI saw, from my dressing-room window, walking so briskly past thepark-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 remindher that it is not proper for a young lady of her rank andprospects to be wandering about by herself in that manner, exposedto the attentions of anyone that presumes to address her; like somepoor neglected girl that has no park to walk in, and no friends totake care of her: and tell her that her papa would be extremelyangry if he knew of her treating Mr. Hatfield in the familiarmanner that I fear she does; and--oh! if you--if ANY governess hadbut half a mother's watchfulness--half a mother's anxious care, Ishould be saved this trouble; and you would see at once thenecessity of keeping your eye upon her, and making your companyagreeable to-- Well, go--go; there's no time to be lost, ' criedshe, seeing that I had put away my drawing materials, and waswaiting in the doorway for the conclusion of her address. 

According to her prognostications, I found Miss Murray in herfavourite field just without the park; and, unfortunately, notalone; for the tall, stately figure of Mr. Hatfield was slowlysauntering 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 bedriven away by so insignificant person as I; and to go and placemyself on the other side of Miss Murray, and intrude my unwelcomepresence upon her without noticing her companion, was a piece ofrudeness I could not be guilty of: neither had I the courage tocry aloud from the top of the field that she was wanted elsewhere. So I took the intermediate course of walking slowly but steadilytowards them; resolving, if my approach failed to scare away thebeau, to pass by and tell Miss Murray her mamma wanted her. 

She certainly looked very charming as she strolled, lingering alongunder the budding horse-chestnut trees that stretched their longarms over the park-palings; with her closed book in one hand, andin the other a graceful sprig of myrtle, which served her as a verypretty plaything; her bright ringlets escaping profusely from herlittle bonnet, and gently stirred by the breeze, her fair cheekflushed with gratified vanity, her smiling blue eyes, now slylyglancing towards her admirer, now gazing downward at her myrtlesprig. But Snap, running before me, interrupted her in the midstof some half-pert, half-playful repartee, by catching hold of herdress and vehemently tugging thereat; till Mr. Hatfield, with hiscane, administered a resounding thwack upon the animal's skull, andsent it yelping back to me with a clamorous outcry that affordedthe reverend gentleman great amusement: but seeing me so near, hethought, I suppose, he might as well be taking his departure; and, as I stooped to caress the dog, with ostentatious pity to show mydisapproval of his severity, I heard him say: 'When shall I seeyou again, Miss Murray?'

'At church, I suppose, ' replied she, 'unless your business chancesto bring you here again at the precise moment when I happen to bewalking by. '

'I could always manage to have business here, if I knew preciselywhen 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 to-morrow. '

'Then give me that, meantime, to comfort me, ' said he, halfjestingly and half in earnest, extending his hand for the sprig ofmyrtle. 

'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 andyet so highly prized!' pleaded he as ardently as if his lifedepended on it. 

By this time I stood within a very few yards of them, impatientlywaiting his departure. 

'There then! take it and go, ' said Rosalie. 

He joyfully received the gift, murmured something that made herblush and toss her head, but with a little laugh that showed herdispleasure was entirely affected; and then with a courteoussalutation 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 alwayshanging about, pretending his business or his clerical dutiesrequire his attendance in these parts, and really watching for poorme, and pouncing upon me wherever he sees me. '

'Well, your mamma thinks you ought not to go beyond the park orgarden without some discreet, matronly person like me to accompanyyou, and keep off all intruders. She descried Mr. Hatfieldhurrying past the park-gates, and forthwith despatched me withinstructions to seek you up and to take care of you, and likewiseto 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 mighttrust me: I never should forget my rank and station for the mostdelightful man that ever breathed. I wish he would go down on hisknees to-morrow, and implore me to be his wife, that I might justshow her how mistaken she is in supposing that I could ever--Oh, itprovokes me so! To think that I could be such a fool as to fall inLOVE! It is quite beneath the dignity of a woman to do such athing. Love! I detest the word! As applied to one of our sex, Ithink it a perfect insult. A preference I MIGHT acknowledge; butnever for one like poor Mr. Hatfield, who has not seven hundred ayear to bless himself with. I like to talk to him, because he's soclever and amusing--I wish Sir Thomas Ashby were half as nice;besides, I must have SOMEBODY to flirt with, and no one else hasthe sense to come here; and when we go out, mamma won't let meflirt with anybody but Sir Thomas--if he's there; and if he's NOTthere, I'm bound hand and foot, for fear somebody should go andmake up some exaggerated story, and put it into his head that I'mengaged, or likely to be engaged, to somebody else; or, what ismore probable, for fear his nasty old mother should see or hear ofmy ongoings, and conclude that I'm not a fit wife for her excellentson: as if the said son were not the greatest scamp inChristendom; and as if any woman of common decency were not a worldtoo good for him. '

'Is it really so, Miss Murray? and does your mamma know it, and yetwish you to marry him?'

'To be sure, she does! She knows more against him than I do, Ibelieve: she keeps it from me lest I should be discouraged; notknowing how little I care about such things. For it's no greatmatter, really: he'll be all right when he's married, as mammasays; and reformed rakes make the best husbands, EVERYBODY knows. I only wish he were not so ugly--THAT'S all _I_ think about: butthen there's no choice here in the country; and papa WILL NOT letus 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 adoubt of it: but the fact is, I MUST have Ashby Park, whoevershares it with me. '

'But Mr. Hatfield thinks you like him all this time; you don'tconsider how bitterly he will be disappointed when he finds himselfmistaken. '

'NO, indeed! It will be a proper punishment for his presumption--for ever DARING to think I could like him. I should enjoy nothingso 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, hedoesn't really think I like him. I take good care of that: youdon't know how cleverly I manage. He may presume to think he caninduce me to like him; for which I shall punish him as hedeserves. '

'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 somewhatmore solicitous to disguise her wishes and her thoughts from me. She talked no more to me about the Rector; but I could see that hermind, if not her heart, was fixed upon him still, and that she wasintent upon obtaining another interview: for though, in compliancewith her mother's request, I was now constituted the companion ofher rambles for a time, she still persisted in wandering in thefields and lanes that lay in the nearest proximity to the road;and, whether she talked to me or read the book she carried in herhand, she kept continually pausing to look round her, or gaze upthe 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 shebelieves herself to be, or would have others to believe her; andher mother's anxiety is not so wholly causeless as she affirms. '

Three days passed away, and he did not make his appearance. On theafternoon of the fourth, as we were walking beside the park-palingsin the memorable field, each furnished with a book (for I alwaystook care to provide myself with something to be doing when she didnot require me to talk), she suddenly interrupted my studies byexclaiming -

'Oh, Miss Grey! do be so kind as to go and see Mark Wood, and takehis wife half-a-crown from me--I should have given or sent it aweek ago, but quite forgot. There!' said she, throwing me herpurse, and speaking very fast--'Never mind getting it out now, buttake 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'vedone it. Be quick, will you--and--oh, wait; hadn't you better readto 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 hurriedmanner and the suddenness of the request, I just glanced backbefore I quitted the field, and there was Mr. Hatfield about toenter 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. PoorMark will be glad of the half-crown, and perhaps of the good booktoo; and if the Rector does steal Miss Rosalie's heart, it willonly 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 agood enough partner for him, and he for her. '

Mark Wood was the consumptive labourer whom I mentioned before. Hewas 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 tobe widowed and fatherless. After I had sat a few minutes, and reada little for the comfort and edification of himself and hisafflicted wife, I left them; but I had not proceeded fifty yardsbefore I encountered Mr. Weston, apparently on his way to the sameabode. He greeted me in his usual quiet, unaffected way, stoppedto inquire about the condition of the sick man and his family, andwith a sort of unconscious, brotherly disregard to ceremony tookfrom my hand the book out of which I had been reading, turned overits pages, made a few brief but very sensible remarks, and restoredit; then told me about some poor sufferer he had just beenvisiting, talked a little about Nancy Brown, made a fewobservations upon my little rough friend the terrier, that wasfrisking 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 thatthey would not interest the reader as they did me, and not becauseI have forgotten them. No; I remember them well; for I thoughtthem over and over again in the course of that day and manysucceeding ones, I know not how often; and recalled everyintonation of his deep, clear voice, every flash of his quick, brown eye, and every gleam of his pleasant, but too transientsmile. Such a confession will look very absurd, I fear: but nomatter: I have written it: and they that read it will not knowthe writer. 

While I was walking along, happy within, and pleased with allaround, 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 newsbefore 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 away for fear papa or mamma should see him; but you know I couldn'tcall you back again, and so!--oh, dear! I can't tell you all aboutit now, for there's Matilda, I see, in the park, and I must go andopen my budget to her. But, however, Hatfield was most uncommonlyaudacious, 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 anothertime. '

'But what did YOU say--I'm more interested in that?'

'I'll tell you that, too, at some future period. I happened to bein a very good humour just then; but, though I was complaisant andgracious enough, I took care not to compromise myself in anypossible way. But, however, the conceited wretch chose tointerpret my amiability of temper his own way, and at lengthpresumed upon my indulgence so far--what do you think?--he actuallymade me an offer!'

'And you--'

'I proudly drew myself up, and with the greatest coolness expressedmy astonishment at such an occurrence, and hoped he had seennothing in my conduct to justify his expectations. You should haveSEEN how his countenance fell! He went perfectly white in theface. I assured him that I esteemed him and all that, but couldnot possibly accede to his proposals; and if I did, papa and mammacould 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 whichquelled all hope at once. Oh, if you had seen how dreadfullymortified 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 ofconsiderable duration, during which he struggled to be calm, and Ito be grave--for I felt a strong propensity to laugh--which wouldhave ruined all--he said, with the ghost of a smile--"But tell meplainly, Miss Murray, if I had the wealth of Sir Hugh Meltham, orthe prospects of his eldest son, would you still refuse me? Answerme 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 ownattractions still, that I determined not to leave him one stoneupon another. He looked me full in the face; but I kept mycountenance so well that he could not imagine I was saying anythingmore than the actual truth. 

'"Then it's all over, I suppose, " he said, looking as if he couldhave died on the spot with vexation and the intensity of hisdespair. But he was angry as well as disappointed. There was he, suffering so unspeakably, and there was I, the pitiless cause of itall, so utterly impenetrable to all the artillery of his looks andwords, so calmly cold and proud, he could not but feel someresentment; and with singular bitterness he began--"I certainly didnot expect this, Miss Murray. I might say something about yourpast conduct, and the hopes you have led me to foster, but Iforbear, on condition--"

'"No conditions, Mr. Hatfield!" said I, now truly indignant at hisinsolence. 

'"Then let me beg it as a favour, " he replied, lowering his voiceat once, and taking a humbler tone: "let me entreat that you willnot mention this affair to anyone whatever. If you will keepsilence about it, there need be no unpleasantness on either side--nothing, I mean, beyond what is quite unavoidable: for my ownfeelings I will endeavour to keep to myself, if I cannot annihilatethem--I will try to forgive, if I cannot forget the cause of mysufferings. I will not suppose, Miss Murray, that you know howdeeply you have injured me. I would not have you aware of it; butif, 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 toit by giving publicity to this unfortunate affair, or naming it ATALL, you will find that I too can speak, and though you scorned mylove, you will hardly scorn my--"

'He stopped, but he bit his bloodless lip, and looked so terriblyfierce that I was quite frightened. However, my pride upheld mestill, and I answered disdainfully; "I do not know what motive yousuppose I could have for naming it to anyone, Mr. Hatfield; but ifI were disposed to do so, you would not deter me by threats; and itis 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 offendyou; but though I never have loved, and never CAN love any woman asI 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 thekindest and most tender and obliging of God's creation, till now. "(Think of the conceited fellow saying that!) "And the novelty andharshness of the lesson you have taught me to-day, and thebitterness of being disappointed in the only quarter on which thehappiness of my life depended, must excuse any appearance ofasperity. If my presence is disagreeable to you, Miss Murray, " hesaid (for I was looking about me to show how little I cared forhim, so he thought I was tired of him, I suppose)--"if my presenceis disagreeable to you, Miss Murray, you have only to promise methe favour I named, and I will relieve you at once. There are manyladies--some even in this parish--who would be delighted to acceptwhat you have so scornfully trampled under your feet. They wouldbe naturally inclined to hate one whose surpassing loveliness hasso completely estranged my heart from them and blinded me to theirattractions; and a single hint of the truth from me to one of thesewould be sufficient to raise such a talk against you as wouldseriously injure your prospects, and diminish your chance ofsuccess with any other gentleman you or your mamma might design toentangle. "

'"What do your mean, sir?" said I, ready to stamp with passion. 

'"I mean that this affair from beginning to end appears to me likea case of arrant flirtation, to say the least of it--such a case asyou would find it rather inconvenient to have blazoned through theworld: especially with the additions and exaggerations of yourfemale rivals, who would be too glad to publish the matter, if Ionly gave them a handle to it. But I promise you, on the faith ofa gentleman, that no word or syllable that could tend to yourprejudice shall ever escape my lips, provided you will--"

'"Well, well, I won't mention it, " said I. "You may rely upon mysilence, 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; andwith a look where pride vainly struggled against despair, he turnedand went away: longing, no doubt, to get home, that he might shuthimself up in his study and cry--if he doesn't burst into tearsbefore he gets there. '

'But you have broken your promise already, ' said I, truly horrifiedat 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 yoursister; and she will tell your brothers when they come home, andBrown immediately, if you do not tell her yourself; and Brown willblazon it, or be the means of blazoning it, throughout thecountry. '

'No, indeed, she won't. We shall not tell her at all, unless it beunder the promise of the strictest secrecy. '

'But how can you expect her to keep her promises better than hermore enlightened mistress?'

'Well, well, she shan't hear it then, ' said Miss Murray, somewhatsnappishly. 

'But you will tell your mamma, of course, ' pursued I; 'and she willtell your papa. '

'Of course I shall tell mamma--that is the very thing that pleasesme so much. I shall now be able to convince her how mistaken shewas in her fears about me. '

'Oh, THAT'S it, is it? I was wondering what it was that delightedyou so much. '

'Yes; and another thing is, that I've humbled Mr. Hatfield socharmingly; and another--why, you must allow me some share offemale vanity: I don't pretend to be without that most essentialattribute of our sex--and if you had seen poor Hatfield's intenseeagerness in making his ardent declaration and his flatteringproposal, and his agony of mind, that no effort of pride couldconceal, on being refused, you would have allowed I had some causeto be gratified. '

'The greater his agony, I should think, the less your cause forgratification. '

'Oh, nonsense!' cried the young lady, shaking herself withvexation. 'You either can't understand me, or you won't. If I hadnot confidence in your magnanimity, I should think you envied me. But you will, perhaps, comprehend this cause of pleasure--which isas great as any--namely, that I am delighted with myself for myprudence, my self-command, my heartlessness, if you please. I wasnot a bit taken by surprise, not a bit confused, or awkward, orfoolish; I just acted and spoke as I ought to have done, and wascompletely my own mistress throughout. And here was a man, decidedly good-looking--Jane and Susan Green call him bewitchinglyhandsome I suppose they're two of the ladies he pretends would beso glad to have him; but, however, he was certainly a very clever, witty, agreeable companion--not what you call clever, but justenough to make him entertaining; and a man one needn't be ashamedof anywhere, and would not soon grow tired of; and to confess thetruth, I rather liked him--better even, of late, than HarryMeltham--and he evidently idolised me; and yet, though he came uponme all alone and unprepared, I had the wisdom, and the pride, andthe 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 thewealth of Sir Hugh Meltham would make no difference to you, whenthat was not the case; and of having promised to tell no one of hismisadventure, apparently without the slightest intention of keepingyour promise?'

'Of course! what else could I do? You would not have had me--but Isee, Miss Grey, you're not in a good temper. Here's Matilda; I'llsee what she and mamma have to say about it. '

She left me, offended at my want of sympathy, and thinking, nodoubt, that I envied her. I did not--at least, I firmly believed Idid not. I was sorry for her; I was amazed, disgusted at herheartless vanity; I wondered why so much beauty should be given tothose who made so bad a use of it, and denied to some who wouldmake it a benefit to both themselves and others. 

But, God knows best, I concluded. There are, I suppose, some menas vain, as selfish, and as heartless as she is, and, perhaps, suchwomen may be useful to punish them. 

CHAPTER XV--THE WALK

'Oh, dear! I wish Hatfield had not been so precipitate!' saidRosalie next day at four P. M. , as, with a portentous yawn, she laiddown her worsted-work and looked listlessly towards the window. 'There's no inducement to go out now; and nothing to look forwardto. The days will be so long and dull when there are no parties toenliven them; and there are none this week, or next either, that Iknow of. '

'Pity you were so cross to him, ' observed Matilda, to whom thislamentation was addressed. 'He'll never come again: and I suspectyou liked him after all. I hoped you would have taken him for yourbeau, and left dear Harry to me. '

'Humph! my beau must be an Adonis indeed, Matilda, the admired ofall beholders, if I am to be contented with him alone. I'm sorryto lose Hatfield, I confess; but the first decent man, or number ofmen, that come to supply his place, will be more than welcome. It's Sunday to-morrow--I do wonder how he'll look, and whetherhe'll be able to go through the service. Most likely he'll pretendhe's got a cold, and make Mr. Weston do it all. '

'Not he!' exclaimed Matilda, somewhat contemptuously. 'Fool as heis, he's not so soft as that comes to. '

Her sister was slightly offended; but the event proved Matilda wasright: the disappointed lover performed his pastoral duties asusual. Rosalie, indeed, affirmed he looked very pale and dejected:he might be a little paler; but the difference, if any, wasscarcely perceptible. As for his dejection, I certainly did nothear his laugh ringing from the vestry as usual, nor his voice loudin hilarious discourse; though I did hear it uplifted in rating thesexton in a manner that made the congregation stare; and, in histransits to and from the pulpit and the communion-table, there wasmore of solemn pomp, and less of that irreverent, self-confident, or rather self-delighted imperiousness with which he usually sweptalong--that air that seemed to say, 'You all reverence and adoreme, I know; but if anyone does not, I defy him to the teeth!' Butthe most remarkable change was, that he never once suffered hiseyes to wander in the direction of Mr. Murray's pew, and did notleave the church till we were gone. 

Mr. Hatfield had doubtless received a very severe blow; but hispride impelled him to use every effort to conceal the effects ofit. He had been disappointed in his certain hope of obtaining notonly a beautiful, and, to him, highly attractive wife, but onewhose rank and fortune might give brilliance to far inferiorcharms: he was likewise, no doubt, intensely mortified by hisrepulse, and deeply offended at the conduct of Miss Murraythroughout. It would have given him no little consolation to haveknown how disappointed she was to find him apparently so littlemoved, and to see that he was able to refrain from casting a singleglance at her throughout both services; though, she declared, itshowed he was thinking of her all the time, or his eyes would havefallen upon her, if it were only by chance: but if they had sochanced to fall, she would have affirmed it was because they couldnot resist the attraction. It might have pleased him, too, in somedegree, to have seen how dull and dissatisfied she was throughoutthat week (the greater part of it, at least), for lack of her usualsource of excitement; and how often she regretted having 'used himup so soon, ' like a child that, having devoured its plumcake toohastily, sits sucking its fingers, and vainly lamenting itsgreediness. 

At length I was called upon, one fine morning, to accompany her ina walk to the village. Ostensibly she went to get some shades ofBerlin wool, at a tolerably respectable shop that was chieflysupported by the ladies of the vicinity: really--I trust there isno breach of charity in supposing that she went with the idea ofmeeting either with the Rector himself, or some other admirer bythe way; for as we went along, she kept wondering 'what Hatfieldwould do or say, if we met him, ' &c. &c. ; as we passed Mr. Green'spark-gates, she 'wondered whether he was at home--great stupidblockhead'; as Lady Meltham's carriage passed us, she 'wonderedwhat Mr. Harry was doing this fine day'; and then began to abusehis elder brother for being 'such a fool as to get married and goand 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 dullerby taking himself off: and if he were not married I might have himinstead of that odious Sir Thomas. '

Then, observing the prints of a horse's feet on the somewhat miryroad, she 'wondered whether it was a gentleman's horse, ' andfinally concluded it was, for the impressions were too small tohave been made by a 'great clumsy cart-horse'; and then she'wondered who the rider could be, ' and whether we should meet himcoming back, for she was sure he had only passed that morning; andlastly, when we entered the village and saw only a few of itshumble inhabitants moving about, she 'wondered why the stupidpeople couldn't keep in their houses; she was sure she didn't wantto see their ugly faces, and dirty, vulgar clothes--it wasn't forthat she came to Horton!'

Amid all this, I confess, I wondered, too, in secret, whether weshould meet, or catch a glimpse of somebody else; and as we passedhis lodgings, I even went so far as to wonder whether he was at thewindow. On entering the shop, Miss Murray desired me to stand inthe doorway while she transacted her business, and tell her ifanyone passed. But alas! there was no one visible besides thevillagers, except Jane and Susan Green coming down the singlestreet, apparently returning from a walk. 

'Stupid things!' muttered she, as she came out after havingconcluded her bargain. 'Why couldn't they have their dolt of abrother with them? even he would be better than nothing. '

She greeted them, however, with a cheerful smile, and protestationsof pleasure at the happy meeting equal to their own. They placedthemselves one on each side of her, and all three walked awaychatting and laughing as young ladies do when they get together, ifthey be but on tolerably intimate terms. But I, feeling myself tobe one too many, left them to their merriment and lagged behind, asusual on such occasions: I had no relish for walking beside MissGreen or Miss Susan like one deaf and dumb, who could neither speaknor be spoken to. 

But this time I was not long alone. It struck me, first, as veryodd, that just as I was thinking about Mr. Weston he should come upand accost me; but afterwards, on due reflection, I thought therewas nothing odd about it, unless it were the fact of his speakingto me; for on such a morning and so near his own abode, it wasnatural enough that he should be about; and as for my thinking ofhim, I had been doing that, with little intermission, ever since weset 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 Iimagine you must know them better than I do, yourself, for I neverexchanged 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 theyconsider themselves as moving in quite a different sphere from me!'

He made no reply to this: but after a short pause, he said, --'Isuppose it's these things, Miss Grey, that make you think you couldnot live without a home?'

'Not exactly. The fact is I am too socially disposed to be able tolive 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 weregone--I will not say I could not live--but I would rather not livein such a desolate world. '

'But why do you say the only friends you are likely to have? Areyou so unsociable that you cannot make friends?'

'No, but I never made one yet; and in my present position there isno possibility of doing so, or even of forming a commonacquaintance. The fault may be partly in myself, but I hope notaltogether. '

'The fault is partly in society, and partly, I should think, inyour immediate neighbours: and partly, too, in yourself; for manyladies, in your position, would make themselves be noticed andaccounted of. But your pupils should be companions for you in somedegree; they cannot be many years younger than yourself. '

'Oh, yes, they are good company sometimes; but I cannot call themfriends, nor would they think of bestowing such a name on me--theyhave other companions better suited to their tastes. '

'Perhaps you are too wise for them. How do you amuse yourself whenalone--do you read much?'

'Reading is my favourite occupation, when I have leisure for it andbooks to read. '

From speaking of books in general, he passed to different books inparticular, and proceeded by rapid transitions from topic to topic, till several matters, both of taste and opinion, had been discussedconsiderably within the space of half an hour, but without theembellishment of many observations from himself; he being evidentlyless bent upon communicating his own thoughts and predilections, than on discovering mine. He had not the tact, or the art, toeffect such a purpose by skilfully drawing out my sentiments orideas through the real or apparent statement of his own, or leadingthe conversation by imperceptible gradations to such topics as hewished 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 andintellectual 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 stoodparleying at the park-gates, attempting to persuade Miss Murray tocome in, I wished Mr. Weston would go, that she might not see himwith me when she turned round; but, unfortunately, his business, which was to pay one more visit to poor Mark Wood, led him topursue the same path as we did, till nearly the close of ourjourney. When, however, he saw that Rosalie had taken leave of herfriends and I was about to join her, he would have left me andpassed on at a quicker pace; but, as he civilly lifted his hat inpassing her, to my surprise, instead of returning the salute with astiff, ungracious bow, she accosted him with one of her sweetestsmiles, and, walking by his side, began to talk to him with allimaginable cheerfulness and affability; and so we proceeded allthree together. 

After a short pause in the conversation, Mr. Weston made someremark addressed particularly to me, as referring to something wehad been talking of before; but before I could answer, Miss Murrayreplied to the observation and enlarged upon it: he rejoined; and, from thence to the close of the interview, she engrossed himentirely to herself. It might be partly owing to my own stupidity, my want of tact and assurance: but I felt myself wronged: Itrembled with apprehension; and I listened with envy to her easy, rapid flow of utterance, and saw with anxiety the bright smile withwhich she looked into his face from time to time: for she waswalking a little in advance, for the purpose (as I judged) of beingseen 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 orflippant in her manner now, as when she walked with Mr. Hatfield, there was only a gentle, playful kind of vivacity, which I thoughtmust be peculiarly pleasing to a man of Mr. Weston's dispositionand temperament. 

When he was gone she began to laugh, and muttered to herself, 'Ithought 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 himthrough the heart!'

'How do you know?'

'By many infallible proofs: more especially the look he gave mewhen he went away. It was not an impudent look--I exonerate himfrom 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 likeit, and I could not trust myself to speak. 'O God, avert it!' Icried, internally--'for his sake, not for mine!'

Miss Murray made several trivial observations as we passed up thepark, to which (in spite of my reluctance to let one glimpse of myfeelings appear) I could only answer by monosyllables. Whether sheintended to torment me, or merely to amuse herself, I could nottell--and did not much care; but I thought of the poor man and hisone lamb, and the rich man with his thousand flocks; and I dreadedI knew not what for Mr. Weston, independently of my own blightedhopes. 

Right glad was I to get into the house, and find myself alone oncemore in my own room. My first impulse was to sink into the chairbeside the bed; and laying my head on the pillow, to seek relief ina passionate burst of tears: there was an imperative craving forsuch an indulgence; but, alas! I must restrain and swallow back myfeelings still: there was the bell--the odious bell for theschoolroom dinner; and I must go down with a calm face, and smile, and laugh, and talk nonsense--yes, and eat, too, if possible, as ifall 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 disposedto attend church in the afternoon, excepting Rosalie: she was bentupon going as usual; so she ordered the carriage, and I went withher: nothing loth, of course, for at church I might look withoutfear of scorn or censure upon a form and face more pleasing to methan the most beautiful of God's creations; I might listen withoutdisturbance to a voice more charming than the sweetest music to myears; I might seem to hold communion with that soul in which I feltso deeply interested, and imbibe its purest thoughts and holiestaspirations, with no alloy to such felicity except the secretreproaches of my conscience, which would too often whisper that Iwas deceiving my own self, and mocking God with the service of aheart more bent upon the creature than the Creator. 

Sometimes, such thoughts would give me trouble enough; butsometimes I could quiet them with thinking--it is not the man, itis his goodness that I love. 'Whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are honest and ofgood report, think on these things. ' We do well to worship God inHis works; and I know none of them in which so many of Hisattributes--so much of His own spirit shines, as in this Hisfaithful servant; whom to know and not to appreciate, were obtuseinsensibility in me, who have so little else to occupy my heart. 

Almost immediately after the conclusion of the service, Miss Murrayleft 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 forthso hastily, for neither young Meltham nor Squire Green was there;but I soon found it was to secure an interview with Mr. Weston ashe came out, which he presently did. Having saluted us both, hewould have passed on, but she detained him; first with observationsupon the disagreeable weather, and then with asking if he would beso kind as to come some time to-morrow to see the granddaughter ofthe old woman who kept the porter's lodge, for the girl was ill ofa fever, and wished to see him. He promised to do so. 

'And at what time will you be most likely to come, Mr. Weston? Theold woman will like to know when to expect you--you know suchpeople think more about having their cottages in order when decentpeople come to see them than we are apt to suppose. '

Here was a wonderful instance of consideration from the thoughtlessMiss Murray. Mr. Weston named an hour in the morning at which hewould endeavour, to be there. By this time the carriage was ready, and the footman was waiting, with an open umbrella, to escort MissMurray through the churchyard. I was about to follow; but Mr. Weston had an umbrella too, and offered me the benefit of itsshelter, for it was raining heavily. 

'No, thank you, I don't mind the rain, ' I said. I always lackedcommon sense when taken by surprise. 

'But you don't LIKE it, I suppose?--an umbrella will do you no harmat any rate, ' he replied, with a smile that showed he was notoffended; as a man of worse temper or less penetration would havebeen at such a refusal of his aid. I could not deny the truth ofhis assertion, and so went with him to the carriage; he evenoffered me his hand on getting in: an unnecessary piece ofcivility, but I accepted that too, for fear of giving offence. Oneglance he gave, one little smile at parting--it was but for amoment; but therein I read, or thought I read, a meaning thatkindled in my heart a brighter flame of hope than had ever yetarisen. 

'I would have sent the footman back for you, Miss Grey, if you'dwaited 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 methe benefit of his, and I could not have refused it more than I didwithout offending him, ' replied I, smiling placidly; for my inwardhappiness made that amusing, which would have wounded me at anothertime. 

The carriage was now in motion. Miss Murray bent forwards, andlooked out of the window as we were passing Mr. Weston. He waspacing 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 asecret gratification from the fact, not that she was vexed, butthat she thought she had reason to be so. It made me think myhopes were not entirely the offspring of my wishes and imagination. 

'I mean to take up Mr. Weston instead of Mr. Hatfield, ' said mycompanion, after a short pause, resuming something of her usualcheerfulness. 'The ball at Ashby Park takes place on Tuesday, youknow; and mamma thinks it very likely that Sir Thomas will proposeto me then: such things are often done in the privacy of the ball-room, when gentlemen are most easily ensnared, and ladies mostenchanting. But if I am to be married so soon, I must make thebest of the present time: I am determined Hatfield shall not bethe only man who shall lay his heart at my feet, and implore me toaccept the worthless gift in vain. '

'If you mean Mr. Weston to be one of your victims, ' said I, withaffected indifference, 'you will have to make such overturesyourself that you will find it difficult to draw back when he asksyou to fulfil the expectations you have raised. '

'I don't suppose he will ask me to marry him, nor should I desireit: that would be rather too much presumption! but I intend him tofeel my power. He has felt it already, indeed: but he shallACKNOWLEDGE it too; and what visionary hopes he may have, he mustkeep to himself, and only amuse me with the result of them--for atime. '

'Oh! that some kind spirit would whisper those words in his ear, ' Iinwardly exclaimed. I was far too indignant to hazard a reply toher observation aloud; and nothing more was said about Mr. Westonthat day, by me or in my hearing. But next morning, soon afterbreakfast, Miss Murray came into the schoolroom, where her sisterwas employed at her studies, or rather her lessons, for studiesthey were not, and said, 'Matilda, I want you to take a walk withme about eleven o'clock. '

'Oh, I can't, Rosalie! I have to give orders about my new bridleand 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 thewindow, she whispered an explanation in her ear; upon which thelatter consented to go. 

I remembered that eleven was the hour at which Mr. Weston proposedto come to the porter's lodge; and remembering that, I beheld thewhole contrivance. Accordingly, at dinner, I was entertained witha long account of how Mr. Weston had overtaken them as they werewalking along the road; and how they had had a long walk and talkwith him, and really found him quite an agreeable companion; andhow he must have been, and evidently was, delighted with them andtheir 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 haddone before. This is not saying much--for hitherto I had been alittle neglectful in that particular; but now, also, it was nouncommon thing to spend as much as two minutes in the contemplationof my own image in the glass; though I never could derive anyconsolation from such a study. I could discover no beauty in thosemarked features, that pale hollow cheek, and ordinary dark brownhair; there might be intellect in the forehead, there might beexpression in the dark grey eyes, but what of that?--a low Grecianbrow, and large black eyes devoid of sentiment would be esteemedfar preferable. It is foolish to wish for beauty. Sensible peoplenever either desire it for themselves or care about it in others. If the mind be but well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, noone ever cares for the exterior. So said the teachers of ourchildhood; and so say we to the children of the present day. Allvery judicious and proper, no doubt; but are such assertionssupported by actual experience?

We are naturally disposed to love what gives us pleasure, and whatmore pleasing than a beautiful face--when we know no harm of thepossessor at least? A little girl loves her bird--Why? Because itlives 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 thebird, with its graceful form, soft feathers, and bright, speakingeyes. If a woman is fair and amiable, she is praised for bothqualities, but especially the former, by the bulk of mankind: if, on the other hand, she is disagreeable in person and character, herplainness 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 retiredmanners and secluded life, no one ever knows of her goodness, except her immediate connections. Others, on the contrary, aredisposed to form unfavourable opinions of her mind, anddisposition, if it be but to excuse themselves for theirinstinctive dislike of one so unfavoured by nature; and visa versawith her whose angel form conceals a vicious heart, or sheds afalse, deceitful charm over defects and foibles that would not betolerated in another. They that have beauty, let them be thankfulfor it, and make a good use of it, like any other talent; they thathave it not, let them console themselves, and do the best they canwithout it: certainly, though liable to be over-estimated, it is agift of God, and not to be despised. Many will feel this who havefelt that they could love, and whose hearts tell them that they areworthy to be loved again; while yet they are debarred, by the lackof this or some such seeming trifle, from giving and receiving thathappiness they seem almost made to feel and to impart. As wellmight the humble glowworm despise that power of giving lightwithout which the roving fly might pass her and repass her athousand times, and never rest beside her: she might hear herwinged darling buzzing over and around her; he vainly seeking her, she longing to be found, but with no power to make her presenceknown, no voice to call him, no wings to follow his flight;--thefly must seek another mate, the worm must live and die alone. 

Such were some of my reflections about this period. I might go onprosing more and more, I might dive much deeper, and disclose otherthoughts, 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 comprehendthem; but I forbear. 

Now, therefore, let us return to Miss Murray. She accompanied hermamma to the ball on Tuesday; of course splendidly attired, anddelighted with her prospects and her charms. As Ashby Park wasnearly ten miles distant from Horton Lodge, they had to set outpretty early, and I intended to have spent the evening with NancyBrown, whom I had not seen for a long time; but my kind pupil tookcare I should spend it neither there nor anywhere else beyond thelimits of the schoolroom, by giving me a piece of music to copy, which kept me closely occupied till bed-time. About eleven nextmorning, as soon as she had left her room, she came to tell me hernews. Sir Thomas had indeed proposed to her at the ball; an eventwhich reflected great credit on her mamma's sagacity, if not uponher skill in contrivance. I rather incline to the belief that shehad first laid her plans, and then predicted their success. Theoffer had been accepted, of course, and the bridegroom elect wascoming that day to settle matters with Mr. Murray. 

Rosalie was pleased with the thoughts of becoming mistress of AshbyPark; she was elated with the prospect of the bridal ceremony andits attendant splendour and eclat, the honeymoon spent abroad, andthe subsequent gaieties she expected to enjoy in London andelsewhere; she appeared pretty well pleased too, for the timebeing, with Sir Thomas himself, because she had so lately seen him, danced with him, and been flattered by him; but, after all, sheseemed to shrink from the idea of being so soon united: she wishedthe ceremony to be delayed some months, at least; and I wished ittoo. It seemed a horrible thing to hurry on the inauspiciousmatch, and not to give the poor creature time to think and reasonon the irrevocable step she was about to take. I made nopretension to 'a mother's watchful, anxious care, ' but I was amazedand horrified at Mrs. Murray's heartlessness, or want of thoughtfor the real good of her child; and by my unheeded warnings andexhortations, I vainly strove to remedy the evil. Miss Murray onlylaughed at what I said; and I soon found that her reluctance to animmediate union arose chiefly from a desire to do what executionshe could among the young gentlemen of her acquaintance, before shewas incapacitated from further mischief of the kind. It was forthis cause that, before confiding to me the secret of herengagement, she had extracted a promise that I would not mention aword on the subject to any one. And when I saw this, and when Ibeheld her plunge more recklessly than ever into the depths ofheartless 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 injuringothers the better. '

The wedding was fixed for the first of June. Between that and thecritical ball was little more than six weeks; but, with Rosalie'saccomplished skill and resolute exertion, much might be done, evenwithin that period; especially as Sir Thomas spent most of theinterim in London; whither he went up, it was said, to settleaffairs with his lawyer, and make other preparations for theapproaching nuptials. He endeavoured to supply the want of hispresence by a pretty constant fire of billets-doux; but these didnot attract the neighbours' attention, and open their eyes, aspersonal visits would have done; and old Lady Ashby's haughty, sourspirit of reserve withheld her from spreading the news, while herindifferent health prevented her coming to visit her futuredaughter-in-law; so that, altogether, this affair was kept farcloser than such things usually are. 

Rosalie would sometimes show her lover's epistles to me, toconvince me what a kind, devoted husband he would make. She showedme 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 wouldnot satisfy: he must write again and again. He would not havedone so if he could have seen the grimaces his fair idol made overhis moving appeals to her feelings, and heard her scornfullaughter, and the opprobrious epithets she heaped upon him for hisperseverance. 

'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 anend of my--ahem! And, besides, if I told him that, he would thinkmy engagement was the only obstacle, and that I would have him if Iwere free; which I could not bear that any man should think, andhe, of all others, at least. Besides, I don't care for hisletters, ' she added, contemptuously; 'he may write as often as hepleases, and look as great a calf as he likes when I meet him; itonly amuses me. '

Meantime, young Meltham was pretty frequent in his visits to thehouse or transits past it; and, judging by Matilda's execrationsand reproaches, her sister paid more attention to him than civilityrequired; in other words, she carried on as animated a flirtationas the presence of her parents would admit. She made some attemptsto bring Mr. Hatfield once more to her feet; but finding themunsuccessful, she repaid his haughty indifference with stillloftier scorn, and spoke of him with as much disdain anddetestation as she had formerly done of his curate. But, amid allthis, she never for a moment lost sight of Mr. Weston. Sheembraced every opportunity of meeting him, tried every art tofascinate him, and pursued him with as much perseverance as if shereally loved him and no other, and the happiness of her lifedepended upon eliciting a return of affection. Such conduct wascompletely beyond my comprehension. Had I seen it depicted in anovel, I should have thought it unnatural; had I heard it describedby 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, Icould only conclude that excessive vanity, like drunkenness, hardens the heart, enslaves the faculties, and perverts thefeelings; and that dogs are not the only creatures which, whengorged 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. Heracquaintance among them was more widely extended, her visits totheir humble dwellings were more frequent and excursive than theyhad ever been before. Hereby, she earned among them the reputationof a condescending and very charitable young lady; and theirencomiums were sure to be repeated to Mr. Weston: whom also shehad thus a daily chance of meeting in one or other of their abodes, or in her transits to and fro; and often, likewise, she couldgather, through their gossip, to what places he was likely to go atsuch and such a time, whether to baptize a child, or to visit theaged, the sick, the sad, or the dying; and most skilfully she laidher plans accordingly. In these excursions she would sometimes gowith her sister--whom, by some means, she had persuaded or bribedto enter into her schemes--sometimes alone, never, now, with me; sothat I was debarred the pleasure of seeing Mr. Weston, or hearinghis voice even in conversation with another: which would certainlyhave been a very great pleasure, however hurtful or however fraughtwith pain. I could not even see him at church: for Miss Murray, under some trivial pretext, chose to take possession of that cornerin 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 accordinglydid. 

Now, also, I never walked home with my pupils: they said theirmamma thought it did not look well to see three people out of thefamily walking, and only two going in the carriage; and, as theygreatly preferred walking in fine weather, I should be honoured bygoing with the seniors. 'And besides, ' said they, 'you can't walkas fast as we do; you know you're always lagging behind. ' I knewthese were false excuses, but I made no objections, and nevercontradicted such assertions, well knowing the motives whichdictated them. And in the afternoons, during those six memorableweeks, I never went to church at all. If I had a cold, or anyslight indisposition, they took advantage of that to make me stayat home; and often they would tell me they were not going againthat day, themselves, and then pretend to change their minds, andset off without telling me: so managing their departure that Inever discovered the change of purpose till too late. Upon theirreturn home, on one of these occasions, they entertained me with ananimated account of a conversation they had had with Mr. Weston asthey came along. 'And he asked if you were ill, Miss Grey, ' saidMatilda; 'but we told him you were quite well, only you didn't wantto 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 allmy leisure hours. There was always some drawing to finish, somemusic to copy, or some work to do, sufficient to incapacitate mefrom 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 inhigh glee to give me an account of their interview. 'And he askedafter you again, ' said Matilda, in spite of her sister's silent butimperative intimation that she should hold her tongue. 'Hewondered why you were never with us, and thought you must havedelicate 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, Rosalietold him you were quite well, but you were always so buried in yourbooks 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 thatyou can do nothing else. '

'That is not the case though; if you had told her I was so busy Icould not come to see her, it would have been nearer the truth. '

'I don't think it would, ' replied Miss Murray, suddenly kindlingup; 'I'm sure you have plenty of time to yourself now, when youhave so little teaching to do. '

It was no use beginning to dispute with such indulged, unreasoningcreatures: so I held my peace. I was accustomed, now, to keepingsilence when things distasteful to my ear were uttered; and now, too, I was used to wearing a placid smiling countenance when myheart was bitter within me. Only those who have felt the like canimagine my feelings, as I sat with an assumption of smilingindifference, listening to the accounts of those meetings andinterviews with Mr. Weston, which they seemed to find such pleasurein describing to me; and hearing things asserted of him which, fromthe character of the man, I knew to be exaggerations andperversions of the truth, if not entirely false--things derogatoryto him, and flattering to them--especially to Miss Murray--which Iburned to contradict, or, at least, to show my doubts about, butdared not; lest, in expressing my disbelief, I should display myinterest too. Other things I heard, which I felt or feared wereindeed too true: but I must still conceal my anxiety respectinghim, my indignation against them, beneath a careless aspect;others, again, mere hints of something said or done, which I longedto hear more of, but could not venture to inquire. So passed theweary time. I could not even comfort myself with saying, 'She willsoon be married; and then there may be hope. '

Soon after her marriage the holidays would come; and when Ireturned from home, most likely, Mr. Weston would be gone, for Iwas told that he and the Rector could not agree (the Rector'sfault, of course), and he was about to remove to another place. 

No--besides my hope in God, my only consolation was in thinkingthat, though he know it not, I was more worthy of his love thanRosalie Murray, charming and engaging as she was; for I couldappreciate his excellence, which she could not: I would devote mylife to the promotion of his happiness; she would destroy hishappiness 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 butknow her hollowness, her worthless, heartless frivolity, he wouldthen be safe, and I should be--ALMOST happy, though I might neversee him more!'

I fear, by this time, the reader is well nigh disgusted with thefolly and weakness I have so freely laid before him. I neverdisclosed it then, and would not have done so had my own sister ormy mother been with me in the house. I was a close and resolutedissembler--in this one case at least. My prayers, my tears, mywishes, fears, and lamentations, were witnessed by myself andheaven alone. 

When we are harassed by sorrows or anxieties, or long oppressed byany powerful feelings which we must keep to ourselves, for which wecan obtain and seek no sympathy from any living creature, and whichyet we cannot, or will not wholly crush, we often naturally seekrelief in poetry--and often find it, too--whether in the effusionsof others, which seem to harmonize with our existing case, or inour own attempts to give utterance to those thoughts and feelingsin strains less musical, perchance, but more appropriate, andtherefore more penetrating and sympathetic, and, for the time, moresoothing, or more powerful to rouse and to unburden the oppressedand swollen heart. Before this time, at Wellwood House and here, when suffering from home-sick melancholy, I had sought relief twiceor thrice at this secret source of consolation; and now I flew toit again, with greater avidity than ever, because I seemed to needit more. I still preserve those relics of past sufferings andexperience, like pillars of witness set up in travelling throughthe vale of life, to mark particular occurrences. The footstepsare obliterated now; the face of the country may be changed; butthe pillar is still there, to remind me how all things were when itwas reared. Lest the reader should be curious to see any of theseeffusions, I will favour him with one short specimen: cold andlanguid as the lines may seem, it was almost a passion of grief towhich they owed their being:-

Oh, they have robbed me of the hopeMy spirit held so dear;They will not let me hear that voiceMy soul delights to hear. 

They will not let me see that faceI 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 ofhim day and night; and I could feel that he was worthy to bethought of. Nobody knew him as I did; nobody could appreciate himas I did; nobody could love him as I--could, if I might: but therewas the evil. What business had I to think so much of one thatnever 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 keptthose thoughts to myself, and troubled no one else with them, wherewas the harm of it? I would ask myself. And such reasoningprevented me from making any sufficient effort to shake off myfetters. 

But, if those thoughts brought delight, it was a painful, troubledpleasure, too near akin to anguish; and one that did me more injurythan I was aware of. It was an indulgence that a person of morewisdom or more experience would doubtless have denied herself. Andyet, how dreary to turn my eyes from the contemplation of thatbright object and force them to dwell on the dull, grey, desolateprospect around: the joyless, hopeless, solitary path that laybefore me. It was wrong to be so joyless, so desponding; I shouldhave made God my friend, and to do His will the pleasure and thebusiness of my life; but faith was weak, and passion was toostrong. 

In this time of trouble I had two other causes of affliction. Thefirst may seem a trifle, but it cost me many a tear: Snap, mylittle dumb, rough-visaged, but bright-eyed, warm-heartedcompanion, the only thing I had to love me, was taken away, anddelivered over to the tender mercies of the village rat-catcher, aman notorious for his brutal treatment of his canine slaves. Theother was serious enough; my letters from home gave intimation thatmy father's health was worse. No boding fears were expressed, butI was grown timid and despondent, and could not help fearing thatsome dreadful calamity awaited us there. I seemed to see the blackclouds gathering round my native hills, and to hear the angrymuttering of a storm that was about to burst, and desolate ourhearth. 

CHAPTER XVIII--MIRTH AND MOURNING

The 1st of June arrived at last: and Rosalie Murray was transmutedinto Lady Ashby. Most splendidly beautiful she looked in herbridal costume. Upon her return from church, after the ceremony, she came flying into the schoolroom, flushed with excitement, andlaughing, half in mirth, and half in reckless desperation, as itseemed to me. 

'Now, Miss Grey, I'm Lady Ashby!' she exclaimed. 'It's done, myfate is sealed: there's no drawing back now. I'm come to receiveyour congratulations and bid you good-by; and then I'm off forParis, Rome, Naples, Switzerland, London--oh, dear! what a deal Ishall 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, whydon't you congratulate me?'

'I cannot congratulate you, ' I replied, 'till I know whether thischange is really for the better: but I sincerely hope it is; and Iwish 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, suddenlyreturning, embraced me with more affection than I thought hercapable of evincing, and departed with tears in her eyes. Poorgirl! I really loved her then; and forgave her from my heart allthe injury she had done me--and others also: she had not halfknown it, I was sure; and I prayed God to pardon her too. 

During the remainder of that day of festal sadness, I was left tomy own devices. Being too much unhinged for any steady occupation, I wandered about with a book in my hand for several hours, morethinking than reading, for I had many things to think about. Inthe evening, I made use of my liberty to go and see my old friendNancy once again; to apologize for my long absence (which must haveseemed so neglectful and unkind) by telling her how busy I hadbeen; and to talk, or read, or work for her, whichever might bemost acceptable, and also, of course, to tell her the news of thisimportant day: and perhaps to obtain a little information from herin return, respecting Mr. Weston's expected departure. But of thisshe seemed to know nothing, and I hoped, as she did, that it wasall a false report. She was very glad to see me; but, happily, hereyes were now so nearly well that she was almost independent of myservices. She was deeply interested in the wedding; but while Iamused her with the details of the festive day, the splendours ofthe bridal party and of the bride herself, she often sighed andshook her head, and wished good might come of it; she seemed, likeme, to regard it rather as a theme for sorrow than rejoicing. Isat a long time talking to her about that and other things--but noone came. 

Shall I confess that I sometimes looked towards the door with ahalf-expectant wish to see it open and give entrance to Mr. Weston, as had happened once before? and that, returning through the lanesand fields, I often paused to look round me, and walked more slowlythan was at all necessary--for, though a fine evening, it was not ahot one--and, finally, felt a sense of emptiness and disappointmentat having reached the house without meeting or even catching adistant glimpse of any one, except a few labourers returning fromtheir work?

Sunday, however, was approaching: I should see him then: for nowthat Miss Murray was gone, I could have my old corner again. Ishould see him, and by look, speech, and manner, I might judgewhether the circumstance of her marriage had very much afflictedhim. Happily I could perceive no shadow of a difference: he worethe same aspect as he had worn two months ago--voice, look, manner, all alike unchanged: there was the same keen-sighted, uncloudedtruthfulness in his discourse, the same forcible clearness in hisstyle, the same earnest simplicity in all he said and did, thatmade itself, not marked by the eye and ear, but felt upon thehearts of his audience. 

I walked home with Miss Matilda; but HE DID NOT JOIN US. Matildawas now sadly at a loss for amusement, and wofully in want of acompanion: her brothers at school, her sister married and gone, she too young to be admitted into society; for which, fromRosalie's example, she was in some degree beginning to acquire ataste--a taste at least for the company of certain classes ofgentlemen; at this dull time of year--no hunting going on, noshooting even--for, though she might not join in that, it wasSOMETHING to see her father or the gamekeeper go out with the dogs, and to talk with them on their return, about the different birdsthey had bagged. Now, also, she was denied the solace which thecompanionship of the coachman, grooms, horses, greyhounds, andpointers might have afforded; for her mother having, notwithstanding the disadvantages of a country life, sosatisfactorily disposed of her elder daughter, the pride of herheart had begun seriously to turn her attention to the younger;and, being truly alarmed at the roughness of her manners, andthinking it high time to work a reform, had been roused at lengthto exert her authority, and prohibited entirely the yards, stables, kennels, and coach-house. Of course, she was not implicitlyobeyed; but, indulgent as she had hitherto been, when once herspirit was roused, her temper was not so gentle as she requiredthat of her governesses to be, and her will was not to be thwartedwith impunity. After many a scene of contention between mother anddaughter, many a violent outbreak which I was ashamed to witness, in which the father's authority was often called in to confirm withoaths and threats the mother's slighted prohibitions--for even HEcould see that 'Tilly, though she would have made a fine lad, wasnot quite what a young lady ought to be'--Matilda at length foundthat her easiest plan was to keep clear of the forbidden regions;unless she could now and then steal a visit without her watchfulmother's knowledge. 

Amid all this, let it not be imagined that I escaped without many areprimand, and many an implied reproach, that lost none of itssting from not being openly worded; but rather wounded the moredeeply, because, from that very reason, it seemed to preclude self-defence. Frequently, I was told to amuse Miss Matilda with otherthings, and to remind her of her mother's precepts andprohibitions. I did so to the best of my power: but she would notbe amused against her will, and could not against her taste; andthough I went beyond mere reminding, such gentle remonstrances as Icould use were utterly ineffectual. 

'DEAR Miss Grey! it is the STRANGEST thing. I suppose you can'thelp it, if it's not in your nature--but I WONDER you can't win theconfidence of that girl, and make your society at LEAST asagreeable to her as that of Robert or Joseph!'

'They can talk the best about the things in which she is mostinterested, ' I replied. 

'Well! that is a strange confession, HOWEVER, to come from herGOVERNESS! Who is to form a young lady's tastes, I wonder, if thegoverness doesn't do it? I have known governesses who have socompletely identified themselves with the reputation of their youngladies for elegance and propriety in mind and manners, that theywould blush to speak a word against them; and to hear the slightestblame imputed to their pupils was worse than to be censured intheir own persons--and I really think it very natural, for mypart. '

'Do you, ma'am?'

'Yes, of course: the young lady's proficiency and elegance is ofmore consequence to the governess than her own, as well as to theworld. If she wishes to prosper in her vocation she must devoteall her energies to her business: all her ideas and all herambition will tend to the accomplishment of that one object. Whenwe wish to decide upon the merits of a governess, we naturally lookat the young ladies she professes to have educated, and judgeaccordingly. The JUDICIOUS governess knows this: she knows that, while she lives in obscurity herself, her pupils' virtues anddefects will be open to every eye; and that, unless she loses sightof herself in their cultivation, she need not hope for success. You see, Miss Grey, it is just the same as any other trade orprofession: they that wish to prosper must devote themselves bodyand soul to their calling; and if they begin to yield to indolenceor self-indulgence they are speedily distanced by wisercompetitors: there is little to choose between a person that ruinsher pupils by neglect, and one that corrupts them by her example. You will excuse my dropping these little hints: you know it is allfor your own good. Many ladies would speak to you much morestrongly; and many would not trouble themselves to speak at all, but quietly look out for a substitute. That, of course, would bethe EASIEST plan: but I know the advantages of a place like thisto a person in your situation; and I have no desire to part withyou, as I am sure you would do very well if you will only think ofthese things and try to exert yourself a LITTLE more: then, I amconvinced, you would SOON acquire that delicate tact which alone iswanting to give you a proper influence over the mind of yourpupil. '

I was about to give the lady some idea of the fallacy of herexpectations; but she sailed away as soon as she had concluded herspeech. Having said what she wished, it was no part of her plan toawait my answer: it was my business to hear, and not to speak. 

However, as I have said, Matilda at length yielded in some degreeto her mother's authority (pity it had not been exerted before);and being thus deprived of almost every source of amusement, therewas nothing for it but to take long rides with the groom and longwalks with the governess, and to visit the cottages and farmhouseson her father's estate, to kill time in chatting with the old menand women that inhabited them. In one of these walks, it was ourchance to meet Mr. Weston. This was what I had long desired; butnow, for a moment, I wished either he or I were away: I felt myheart throb so violently that I dreaded lest some outward signs ofemotion should appear; but I think he hardly glanced at me, and Iwas soon calm enough. After a brief salutation to both, he askedMatilda if she had lately heard from her sister. 

'Yes, ' replied she. 'She was at Paris when she wrote, and verywell, and very happy. '

She spoke the last word emphatically, and with a glanceimpertinently sly. He did not seem to notice it, but replied, withequal emphasis, and very seriously -

'I hope she will continue to be so. '

'Do you think it likely?' I ventured to inquire: for Matilda hadstarted off in pursuit of her dog, that was chasing a leveret. 

'I cannot tell, ' replied he. 'Sir Thomas may be a better man thanI suppose; but, from all I have heard and seen, it seems a pitythat one so young and gay, and--and interesting, to express manythings by one word--whose greatest, if not her only fault, appearsto be thoughtlessness--no trifling fault to be sure, since itrenders the possessor liable to almost every other, and exposes himto so many temptations--but it seems a pity that she should bethrown 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 myattempts to dissuade her from the step. '

'You did attempt it? Then, at least, you will have thesatisfaction of knowing that it is no fault of yours, if any harmshould come of it. As for Mrs. Murray, I don't know how she canjustify her conduct: if I had sufficient acquaintance with her, I'd ask her. '

'It seems unnatural: but some people think rank and wealth thechief good; and, if they can secure that for their children, theythink they have done their duty. '

'True: but is it not strange that persons of experience, who havebeen married themselves, should judge so falsely?' Matilda nowcame panting back, with the lacerated body of the young hare in herhand. 

'Was it your intention to kill that hare, or to save it, MissMurray?' asked Mr. Weston, apparently puzzled at her gleefulcountenance. 

'I pretended to want to save it, ' she answered, honestly enough, 'as it was so glaringly out of season; but I was better pleased tosee it lolled. However, you can both witness that I couldn't helpit: Prince was determined to have her; and he clutched her by theback, 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 notlost upon her; she shrugged her shoulders, and, turning away with asignificant 'Humph!' asked me how I had enjoyed the fun. I repliedthat I saw no fun in the matter; but admitted that I had notobserved the transaction very narrowly. 

'Didn't you see how it doubled--just like an old hare? and didn'tyou 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. Idon't want to take it home, for fear papa should scold me forletting the dog kill it. '

Mr. Weston was now gone, and we too went on our way; but as wereturned, after having deposited the hare in a farm-house, anddemolished some spice-cake and currant-wine in exchange, we met himreturning also from the execution of his mission, whatever it mightbe. He carried in his hand a cluster of beautiful bluebells, whichhe offered to me; observing, with a smile, that though he had seenso little of me for the last two months, he had not forgotten thatbluebells were numbered among my favourite flowers. It was done asa simple act of goodwill, without compliment or remarkablecourtesy, or any look that could be construed into 'reverential, tender adoration' (vide Rosalie Murray); but still, it wassomething to find my unimportant saying so well remembered: it wassomething that he had noticed so accurately the time I had ceasedto be visible. 

'I was told, ' said he, 'that you were a perfect bookworm, MissGrey: so completely absorbed in your studies that you were lost toevery 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 theexpense of their friends; and you ought to be careful how youlisten 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 tostudy, as to lose sight of everything else. Except under peculiarcircumstances, I consider very close and constant study as a wasteof time, and an injury to the mind as well as the body. '

'Well, I have neither the time nor the inclination for suchtransgressions. '

We parted again. 

Well! what is there remarkable in all this? Why have I recordedit? Because, reader, it was important enough to give me a cheerfulevening, a night of pleasing dreams, and a morning of felicitoushopes. Shallow-brained cheerfulness, foolish dreams, unfoundedhopes, you would say; and I will not venture to deny it:suspicions to that effect arose too frequently in my own mind. Butour wishes are like tinder: the flint and steel of circumstancesare 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 amoment. 

But alas! that very morning, my flickering flame of hope wasdismally quenched by a letter from my mother, which spoke soseriously of my father's increasing illness, that I feared therewas little or no chance of his recovery; and, close at hand as theholidays were, I almost trembled lest they should come too late forme to meet him in this world. Two days after, a letter from Marytold me his life was despaired of, and his end seemed fastapproaching. Then, immediately, I sought permission to anticipatethe vacation, and go without delay. Mrs. Murray stared, andwondered at the unwonted energy and boldness with which I urged therequest, and thought there was no occasion to hurry; but finallygave me leave: stating, however, that there was 'no need to be insuch agitation about the matter--it might prove a false alarm afterall; 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 onlyafflicted person in the world;' and concluding with saying I mighthave the phaeton to take me to O-. 'And instead of REPINING, MissGrey, be thankful for the PRIVILEGES you enjoy. There's many apoor clergyman whose family would be plunged into ruin by the eventof his death; but you, you see, have influential friends ready tocontinue their patronage, and to show you every consideration. '

I thanked her for her 'consideration, ' and flew to my room to makesome hurried preparations for my departure. My bonnet and shawlbeing on, and a few things hastily crammed into my largest trunk, Idescended. But I might have done the work more leisurely, for noone else was in a hurry; and I had still a considerable time towait for the phaeton. At length it came to the door, and I wasoff: but, oh, what a dreary journey was that! how utterlydifferent from my former passages homewards! Being too late forthe last coach to -, I had to hire a cab for ten miles, and then acar 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 into tears. 

'How is he?' I asked, gasping for the answer. 

'Dead!'

It was the reply I had anticipated: but the shock seemed none theless 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 frugalbreakfast-table, revolving plans for our future life. My mother'sstrong mind had not given way beneath even this affliction: herspirit, though crushed, was not broken. Mary's wish was that Ishould go back to Horton Lodge, and that our mother should come andlive with her and Mr. Richardson at the vicarage: she affirmedthat he wished it no less than herself, and that such anarrangement could not fail to benefit all parties; for my mother'ssociety and experience would be of inestimable value to them, andthey would do all they could to make her happy. But no argumentsor entreaties could prevail: my mother was determined not to go. Not that she questioned, for a moment, the kind wishes andintentions of her daughter; but she affirmed that so long as Godspared her health and strength, she would make use of them to earnher own livelihood, and be chargeable to no one; whether herdependence would be felt as a burden or not. If she could affordto reside as a lodger in--vicarage, she would choose that housebefore all others as the place of her abode; but not being socircumstanced, she would never come under its roof, except as anoccasional visitor: unless sickness or calamity should render herassistance really needful, or until age or infirmity made herincapable of maintaining herself. 

'No, Mary, ' said she, 'if Richardson and you have anything tospare, you must lay it aside for your family; and Agnes and I mustgather honey for ourselves. Thanks to my having had daughters toeducate, I have not forgotten my accomplishments. God willing, Iwill check this vain repining, ' she said, while the tears coursedone another down her cheeks in spite of her efforts; but she wipedthem away, and resolutely shaking back her head, continued, 'I willexert myself, and look out for a small house, commodiously situatedin some populous but healthy district, where we will take a fewyoung ladies to board and educate--if we can get them--and as manyday pupils as will come, or as we can manage to instruct. Yourfather's relations and old friends will be able to send us somepupils, or to assist us with their recommendations, no doubt: Ishall not apply to my own. What say you to it, Agnes? will you bewilling to leave your present situation and try?'

'Quite willing, mamma; and the money I have saved will do tofurnish the house. It shall be taken from the bank directly. '

'When it is wanted: we must get the house, and settle onpreliminaries first. '

Mary offered to lend the little she possessed; but my motherdeclined it, saying that we must begin on an economical plan; andshe hoped that the whole or part of mine, added to what we couldget by the sale of the furniture, and what little our dear papa hadcontrived to lay aside for her since the debts were paid, would besufficient to last us till Christmas; when, it was hoped, somethingwould accrue from our united labours. It was finally settled thatthis should be our plan; and that inquiries and preparations shouldimmediately be set on foot; and while my mother busied herself withthese, I should return to Horton Lodge at the close of my fourweeks' vacation, and give notice for my final departure when thingswere 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 wasbrought in for my mother, on beholding which the colour mounted toher face--lately pale enough with anxious watchings and excessivesorrow. 'From my father!' murmured she, as she hastily tore offthe cover. It was many years since she had heard from any of herown relations before. Naturally wondering what the letter mightcontain, I watched her countenance while she read it, and wassomewhat surprised to see her bite her lip and knit her brows as ifin anger. When she had done, she somewhat irreverently cast it onthe table, saying with a scornful smile, --'Your grandpapa has beenso kind as to write to me. He says he has no doubt I have longrepented of my "unfortunate marriage, " and if I will onlyacknowledge this, and confess I was wrong in neglecting his advice, and that I have justly suffered for it, he will make a lady of meonce again--if that be possible after my long degradation--andremember my girls in his will. Get my desk, Agnes, and send thesethings away: I will answer the letter directly. But first, as Imay be depriving you both of a legacy, it is just that I shouldtell you what I mean to say. I shall say that he is mistaken insupposing that I can regret the birth of my daughters (who havebeen the pride of my life, and are likely to be the comfort of myold age), or the thirty years I have passed in the company of mybest and dearest friend;--that, had our misfortunes been threetimes as great as they were (unless they had been of my bringingon), I should still the more rejoice to have shared them with yourfather, and administered what consolation I was able; and, had hissufferings in illness been ten times what they wore, I could notregret having watched over and laboured to relieve them;--that, ifhe had married a richer wife, misfortunes and trials would no doubthave come upon him still; while I am egotist enough to imagine thatno other woman could have cheered him through them so well: notthat I am superior to the rest, but I was made for him, and he forme; and I can no more repent the hours, days, years of happiness wehave spent together, and which neither could have had without theother, than I can the privilege of having been his nurse insickness, and his comfort in affliction. 

'Will this do, children?--or shall I say we are all very sorry forwhat has happened during the last thirty years, and my daughterswish they had never been born; but since they have had thatmisfortune, they will be thankful for any trifle their grandpapawill be kind enough to bestow?'

Of course, we both applauded our mother's resolution; Mary clearedaway the breakfast things; I brought the desk; the letter wasquickly written and despatched; and, from that day, we heard nomore of our grandfather, till we saw his death announced in thenewspaper 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 ourseminary; and a promise of two or three pupils was obtained tocommence with. I returned to Horton Lodge about the middle ofJuly, leaving my mother to conclude the bargain for the house, toobtain more pupils, to sell off the furniture of our old abode, andto fit out the new one. 

We often pity the poor, because they have no leisure to mourn theirdeparted relatives, and necessity obliges them to labour throughtheir severest afflictions: but is not active employment the bestremedy for overwhelming sorrow--the surest antidote for despair?It may be a rough comforter: it may seem hard to be harassed withthe cares of life when we have no relish for its enjoyments; to begoaded to labour when the heart is ready to break, and the vexedspirit implores for rest only to weep in silence: but is notlabour better than the rest we covet? and are not those petty, tormenting cares less hurtful than a continual brooding over thegreat affliction that oppresses us? Besides, we cannot have cares, and anxieties, and toil, without hope--if it be but the hope offulfilling our joyless task, accomplishing some needful project, orescaping some further annoyance. At any rate, I was glad my motherhad so much employment for every faculty of her action-lovingframe. Our kind neighbours lamented that she, once so exalted inwealth and station, should be reduced to such extremity in her timeof sorrow; but I am persuaded that she would have suffered thriceas much had she been left in affluence, with liberty to remain inthat house, the scene of her early happiness and late affliction, and no stern necessity to prevent her from incessantly broodingover and lamenting her bereavement. 

I will not dilate upon the feelings with which I left the oldhouse, the well-known garden, the little village church--thendoubly dear to me, because my father, who, for thirty years, hadtaught and prayed within its walls, lay slumbering now beneath itsflags--and the old bare hills, delightful in their very desolation, with the narrow vales between, smiling in green wood and sparklingwater--the house where I was born, the scene of all my earlyassociations, the place where throughout life my earthly affectionshad been centred;--and left them to return no more! True, I wasgoing back to Horton Lodge, where, amid many evils, one source ofpleasure yet remained: but it was pleasure mingled with excessivepain; and my stay, alas! was limited to six weeks. And even ofthat 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 myrambling pupil, of course hopes would keep rising, anddisappointments would ensue; and then, I would say to my own heart, 'Here is a convincing proof--if you would but have the sense to seeit, or the candour to acknowledge it--that he does not care foryou. If he only thought HALF as much about you as you do abouthim, he would have contrived to meet you many times ere this: youmust know that, by consulting your own feelings. Therefore, havedone with this nonsense: you have no ground for hope: dismiss, atonce, these hurtful thoughts and foolish wishes from your mind, andturn to your own duty, and the dull blank life that lies beforeyou. You might have known such happiness was not for you. '

But I saw him at last. He came suddenly upon me as I was crossinga field in returning from a visit to Nancy Brown, which I had takenthe opportunity of paying while Matilda Murray was riding hermatchless mare. He must have heard of the heavy loss I hadsustained: he expressed no sympathy, offered no condolence: butalmost the first words he uttered were, --'How is your mother?' Andthis was no matter-of-course question, for I never told him that Ihad a mother: he must have learned the fact from others, if heknew it at all; and, besides, there was sincere goodwill, and evendeep, touching, unobtrusive sympathy in the tone and manner of theinquiry. I thanked him with due civility, and told him she was aswell as could be expected. 'What will she do?' was the nextquestion. Many would have deemed it an impertinent one, and givenan evasive reply; but such an idea never entered my head, and Igave a brief but plain statement of my mother's plans andprospects. 

'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 hopedit would be to express his concern at my departure; but it was onlyto 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: Ihad only one reason for regretting it; and that was a profoundsecret, 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, atleast, that you could not live contentedly, without a friend; andthat 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 notlive contentedly without a friend in the world: I was not sounreasonable as to require one always near me. I think I could behappy in a house full of enemies, if--' but no; that sentence mustnot be continued--I paused, and hastily added, --'And, besides, wecannot well leave a place where we have lived for two or threeyears, without some feeling of regret. '

'Will you regret to part with Miss Murray, your sole remainingpupil and companion?'

'I dare say I shall in some degree: it was not without sorrow Iparted 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 alittle 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 soexcessively so as to assume an aspect of extreme simplicity andunguarded openness. Yes, ' continued he, musingly, 'that accountsfor 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: hehad certainly stepped a little out of his way to accompany me sofar, for he now went back and disappeared down Moss Lane, theentrance of which we had passed some time before. Assuredly I didnot 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 bymy side, and that that short interval of delightful intercourse wasat an end. He had not breathed a word of love, or dropped one hintof tenderness or affection, and yet I had been supremely happy. Tobe near him, to hear him talk as he did talk, and to feel that hethought me worthy to be so spoken to--capable of understanding andduly appreciating such discourse--was enough. 

'Yes, Edward Weston, I could indeed be happy in a house full ofenemies, if I had but one friend, who truly, deeply, and faithfullyloved me; and if that friend were you--though we might be farapart--seldom to hear from each other, still more seldom to meet--though toil, and trouble, and vexation might surround me, still--itwould 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 tellwhat this one month may bring forth? I have lived nearly three-and-twenty years, and I have suffered much, and tasted littlepleasure yet; is it likely my life all through will be so clouded?Is it not possible that God may hear my prayers, disperse thesegloomy shadows, and grant me some beams of heaven's sunshine yet?Will He entirely deny to me those blessings which are so freelygiven to others, who neither ask them nor acknowledge them whenreceived? May I not still hope and trust? I did hope and trustfor a while: but, alas, alas! the time ebbed away: one weekfollowed another, and, excepting one distant glimpse and twotransient meetings--during which scarcely anything was said--whileI was walking with Miss Matilda, I saw nothing of him: except, ofcourse, at church. 

And now, the last Sunday was come, and the last service. I wasoften on the point of melting into tears during the sermon--thelast I was to hear from him: the best I should hear from anyone, Iwas 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 pouncedupon by the two Misses Green. They had many inquiries to makeabout her sister, and I know not what besides. I only wished theywould have done, that we might hasten back to Horton Lodge: Ilonged to seek the retirement of my own room, or some sequesterednook in the grounds, that I might deliver myself up to my feelings--to weep my last farewell, and lament my false hopes and vaindelusions. 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--'Isuppose you are going this week, Miss Grey?' 'Yes, ' I replied. Iwas very much startled; and had I been at all hystericallyinclined, I certainly should have committed myself in some waythen. Thank God, I was not. 

'Well, ' said Mr. Weston, 'I want to bid you good-bye--it is notlikely I shall see you again before you go. '

'Good-bye, Mr. Weston, ' I said. Oh, how I struggled to say itcalmly! 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 anyconsequence 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, Iwas happy again--though more inclined to burst into tears thanever. If I had been forced to speak at that moment, a successionof sobs would have inevitably ensued; and as it was, I could notkeep the water out of my eyes. I walked along with Miss Murray, turning aside my face, and neglecting to notice several successiveremarks, till she bawled out that I was either deaf or stupid; andthen (having recovered my self-possession), as one awakened from afit of abstraction, I suddenly looked up and asked what she hadbeen saying. 

CHAPTER XXI--THE SCHOOL

I left Horton Lodge, and went to join my mother in our new abode atA-. I found her well in health, resigned in spirit, and evencheerful, though subdued and sober, in her general demeanour. Wehad only three boarders and half a dozen day-pupils to commencewith; but by due care and diligence we hoped ere long to increasethe number of both. 

I set myself with befitting energy to discharge the duties of thisnew mode of life. I call it NEW, for there was, indeed, aconsiderable difference between working with my mother in a schoolof our own, and working as a hireling among strangers, despised andtrampled upon by old and young; and for the first few weeks I wasby no means unhappy. 'It is possible we may meet again, ' and 'willit be of any consequence to you whether we do or not?'--Those wordsstill rang in my ear and rested on my heart: they were my secretsolace and support. 'I shall see him again. --He will come; or hewill write. ' No promise, in fact, was too bright or tooextravagant for Hope to whisper in my ear. I did not believe halfof what she told me: I pretended to laugh at it all; but I was farmore credulous than I myself supposed; otherwise, why did my heartleap up when a knock was heard at the front door, and the maid, whoopened 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 itproved to be a music-master come to offer his services to ourschool? and what stopped my breath for a moment, when the postmanhaving brought a couple of letters, my mother said, 'Here, Agnes, this is for you, ' and threw one of them to me? and what made thehot blood rush into my face when I saw it was directed in agentleman's hand? and why--oh! why did that cold, sickening senseof disappointment fall upon me, when I had torn open the cover andfound it was ONLY a letter from Mary, which, for some reason orother, her husband had directed for her?

Was it then come to this--that I should be DISAPPOINTED to receivea letter from my only sister: and because it was not written by acomparative stranger? Dear Mary! and she had written it so kindly--and thinking I should be so pleased to have it!--I was not worthyto read it! And I believe, in my indignation against myself, Ishould have put it aside till I had schooled myself into a betterframe of mind, and was become more deserving of the honour andprivilege of its perusal: but there was my mother looking on, andwishful to know what news it contained; so I read it and deliveredit to her, and then went into the schoolroom to attend to thepupils: but amidst the cares of copies and sums--in the intervalsof correcting errors here, and reproving derelictions of dutythere, I was inwardly taking myself to task with far sternerseverity. 'What a fool you must be, ' said my head to my heart, ormy sterner to my softer self;--'how could you ever dream that hewould write to you? What grounds have you for such a hope--or thathe will see you, or give himself any trouble about you--or eventhink of you again?' 'What grounds?'--and then Hope set before methat last, short interview, and repeated the words I had sofaithfully treasured in my memory. 'Well, and what was there inthat?--Who ever hung his hopes upon so frail a twig? What wasthere in those words that any common acquaintance might not say toanother? Of course, it was possible you might meet again: hemight have said so if you had been going to New Zealand; but thatdid not imply any INTENTION of seeing you--and then, as to thequestion that followed, anyone might ask that: and how did youanswer?--Merely with a stupid, commonplace reply, such as you wouldhave given to Master Murray, or anyone else you had been ontolerably civil terms with. ' 'But, then, ' persisted Hope, 'thetone and manner in which he spoke. ' 'Oh, that is nonsense! healways speaks impressively; and at that moment there were theGreens and Miss Matilda Murray just before, and other peoplepassing by, and he was obliged to stand close beside you, and tospeak very low, unless he wished everybody to hear what he said, which--though it was nothing at all particular--of course, he wouldrather not. ' But then, above all, that emphatic, yet gentlepressure of the hand, which seemed to say, 'TRUST me;' and manyother things besides--too delightful, almost too flattering, to berepeated even to one's self. 'Egregious folly--too absurd torequire contradiction--mere inventions of the imagination, whichyou ought to be ashamed of. If you would but consider your ownunattractive exterior, your unamiable reserve, your foolishdiffidence--which must make you appear cold, dull, awkward, andperhaps ill-tempered too;--if you had but rightly considered thesefrom the beginning, you would never have harboured suchpresumptuous thoughts: and now that you have been so foolish, prayrepent and amend, and let us have no more of it!'

I cannot say that I implicitly obeyed my own injunctions: but suchreasoning as this became more and more effective as time wore on, and nothing was seen or heard of Mr. Weston; until, at last, I gaveup hoping, for even my heart acknowledged it was all in vain. Butstill, I would think of him: I would cherish his image in my mind;and treasure every word, look, and gesture that my memory couldretain; 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 toomuch, and allow the cares of the schoolroom to worry you. You mustlearn to take things easy, and to be more active and cheerful; youmust take exercise whenever you can get it, and leave the mosttiresome duties to me: they will only serve to exercise mypatience, and, perhaps, try my temper a little. '

So said my mother, as we sat at work one morning during the Easterholidays. I assured her that my employments were not at alloppressive; that I was well; or, if there was anything amiss, itwould 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 wishto see me: but inwardly her observation startled me. I knew mystrength was declining, my appetite had failed, and I was grownlistless and desponding;--and if, indeed, he could never care forme, and I could never see him more--if I was forbidden to ministerto 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 myheavenly Father would call me away, I should be glad to rest. Butit would not do to die and leave my mother. Selfish, unworthydaughter, to forget her for a moment! Was not her happinesscommitted in a great measure to my charge?--and the welfare of ouryoung pupils too? Should I shrink from the work that God had setbefore me, because it was not fitted to my taste? Did not He knowbest what I should do, and where I ought to labour?--and should Ilong to quit His service before I had finished my task, and expectto enter into His rest without having laboured to earn it? 'No; byHis help I will arise and address myself diligently to my appointedduty. If happiness in this world is not for me, I will endeavourto promote the welfare of those around me, and my reward shall behereafter. ' So said I in my heart; and from that hour I onlypermitted my thoughts to wander to Edward Weston--or at least todwell upon him now and then--as a treat for rare occasions: and, whether it was really the approach of summer or the effect of thesegood resolutions, or the lapse of time, or all together, tranquillity of mind was soon restored; and bodily health andvigour began likewise, slowly, but surely, to return. 

Early in June, I received a letter from Lady Ashby, late MissMurray. She had written to me twice or thrice before, from thedifferent stages of her bridal tour, always in good spirits, andprofessing to be very happy. I wondered every time that she hadnot forgotten me, in the midst of so much gaiety and variety ofscene. At length, however, there was a pause; and it seemed shehad forgotten me, for upwards of seven months passed away and noletter. Of course, I did not break my heart about THAT, though Ioften wondered how she was getting on; and when this last epistleso unexpectedly arrived, I was glad enough to receive it. It wasdated from Ashby Park, where she was come to settle down at last, having previously divided her time between the continent and themetropolis. She made many apologies for having neglected me solong, assured me she had not forgotten me, and had often intendedto write, &c. &c. , but had always been prevented by something. Sheacknowledged that she had been leading a very dissipated life, andI should think her very wicked and very thoughtless; but, notwithstanding that, she thought a great deal, and, among otherthings, that she should vastly like to see me. 'We have beenseveral days here already, ' wrote she. 'We have not a singlefriend with us, and are likely to be very dull. You know I neverhad 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 dotake pity upon me and come. I suppose your Midsummer holidayscommence in June, the same as other people's; therefore you cannotplead want of time; and you must and shall come--in fact, I shalldie if you don't. I want you to visit me as a friend, and stay along time. There is nobody with me, as I told you before, but SirThomas and old Lady Ashby: but you needn't mind them--they'lltrouble us but little with their company. And you shall have aroom to yourself, whenever you like to retire to it, and plenty ofbooks to read when my company is not sufficiently amusing. Iforget whether you like babies; if you do, you may have thepleasure of seeing mine--the most charming child in the world, nodoubt; 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 soonas 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 mypoodle, too: a splendid little charmer imported from Paris: andtwo 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; andmany elegant curiosities besides, which I purchased at Rome andelsewhere; and, finally, you shall see my new home--the splendidhouse and grounds I used to covet so greatly. Alas! how far thepromise of anticipation exceeds the pleasure of possession!There's a fine sentiment! I assure you I am become quite a graveold matron: pray come, if it be only to witness the wonderfulchange. Write by return of post, and tell me when your vacationcommences, and say that you will come the day after, and stay tillthe day before it closes--in mercy to

'Yours affectionately, 'ROSALIE ASHBY. '

I showed this strange epistle to my mother, and consulted her onwhat I ought to do. She advised me to go; and I went--willingenough to see Lady Ashby, and her baby, too, and to do anything Icould to benefit her, by consolation or advice; for I imagined shemust be unhappy, or she would not have applied to me thus--butfeeling, as may readily be conceived, that, in accepting theinvitation, I made a great sacrifice for her, and did violence tomy feelings in many ways, instead of being delighted with thehonourable distinction of being entreated by the baronet's lady tovisit her as a friend. However, I determined my visit should beonly for a few days at most; and I will not deny that I derivedsome consolation from the idea that, as Ashby Park was not very farfrom Horton, I might possibly see Mr. Weston, or, at least, hearsomething about him. 

CHAPTER XXII--THE VISIT

Ashby Park was certainly a very delightful residence. The mansionwas stately without, commodious and elegant within; the park wasspacious and beautiful, chiefly on account of its magnificent oldtrees, its stately herds of deer, its broad sheet of water, and theancient woods that stretched beyond it: for there was no brokenground to give variety to the landscape, and but very little ofthat undulating swell which adds so greatly to the charm of parkscenery. And so, this was the place Rosalie Murray had so longedto call her own, that she must have a share of it, on whateverterms it might be offered--whatever price was to be paid for thetitle of mistress, and whoever was to be her partner in the honourand bliss of such a possession! Well I am not disposed to censureher now. 

She received me very kindly; and, though I was a poor clergyman'sdaughter, a governess, and a schoolmistress, she welcomed me withunaffected pleasure to her home; and--what surprised me rather--took some pains to make my visit agreeable. I could see, it istrue, that she expected me to be greatly struck with themagnificence that surrounded her; and, I confess, I was ratherannoyed at her evident efforts to reassure me, and prevent me frombeing overwhelmed by so much grandeur--too much awed at the idea ofencountering her husband and mother-in-law, or too much ashamed ofmy own humble appearance. I was not ashamed of it at all; for, though plain, I had taken good care not to shabby or mean, andshould have been pretty considerably at my ease, if mycondescending hostess had not taken such manifest pains to make meso; and, as for the magnificence that surrounded her, nothing thatmet my eyes struck me or affected me half so much as her ownaltered appearance. Whether from the influence of fashionabledissipation, or some other evil, a space of little more than twelvemonths had had the effect that might be expected from as manyyears, in reducing the plumpness of her form, the freshness of hercomplexion, the vivacity of her movements, and the exuberance ofher spirits. 

I wished to know if she was unhappy; but I felt it was not myprovince to inquire: I might endeavour to win her confidence; but, if she chose to conceal her matrimonial cares from me, I wouldtrouble her with no obtrusive questions. I, therefore, at first, confined myself to a few general inquiries about her health andwelfare, and a few commendations on the beauty of the park, and ofthe little girl that should have been a boy: a small delicateinfant of seven or eight weeks old, whom its mother seemed toregard with no remarkable degree of interest or affection, thoughfull as much as I expected her to show. 

Shortly after my arrival, she commissioned her maid to conduct meto my room and see that I had everything I wanted; it was a small, unpretending, but sufficiently comfortable apartment. When Idescended thence--having divested myself of all travellingencumbrances, and arranged my toilet with due consideration for thefeelings of my lady hostess, she conducted me herself to the room Iwas to occupy when I chose to be alone, or when she was engagedwith visitors, or obliged to be with her mother-in-law, orotherwise prevented, as she said, from enjoying the pleasure of mysociety. It was a quiet, tidy little sitting-room; and I was notsorry to be provided with such a harbour of refuge. 

'And some time, ' said she, 'I will show you the library: I neverexamined its shelves, but, I daresay, it is full of wise books; andyou may go and burrow among them whenever you please. And now youshall have some tea--it will soon be dinner-time, but I thought, asyou were accustomed to dine at one, you would perhaps like betterto 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 thatwill 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 withus 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 inthis room. '

'Why so?'

'Because, I imagine, it would be more agreeable to Lady Ashby andSir 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 seethat the proposal was a considerable relief to her. 

'Now, come into the drawing-room, ' said she. 'There's the dressingbell; but I won't go yet: it's no use dressing when there's no oneto see you; and I want to have a little discourse. '

The drawing-room was certainly an imposing apartment, and veryelegantly furnished; but I saw its young mistress glance towards meas we entered, as if to notice how I was impressed by thespectacle, and accordingly I determined to preserve an aspect ofstony indifference, as if I saw nothing at all remarkable. Butthis was only for a moment: immediately conscience whispered, 'Whyshould I disappoint her to save my pride? No--rather let mesacrifice my pride to give her a little innocent gratification. 'And I honestly looked round, and told her it was a noble room, andvery tastefully furnished. She said little, but I saw she waspleased. 

She showed me her fat French poodle, that lay curled up on a silkcushion, and the two fine Italian paintings: which, however, shewould not give me time to examine, but, saying I must look at themsome other day, insisted upon my admiring the little jewelled watchshe had purchased in Geneva; and then she took me round the room topoint out sundry articles of vertu she had brought from Italy: anelegant little timepiece, and several busts, small gracefulfigures, and vases, all beautifully carved in white marble. Shespoke of these with animation, and heard my admiring comments witha smile of pleasure: that soon, however, vanished, and wasfollowed by a melancholy sigh; as if in consideration of theinsufficiency of all such baubles to the happiness of the humanheart, and their woeful inability to supply its insatiate demands. 

Then, stretching herself upon a couch, she motioned me to acapacious easy-chair that stood opposite--not before the fire, butbefore a wide open window; for it was summer, be it remembered; asweet, warm evening in the latter half of June. I sat for a momentin silence, enjoying the still, pure air, and the delightfulprospect of the park that lay before me, rich in verdure andfoliage, and basking in yellow sunshine, relieved by the longshadows of declining day. But I must take advantage of this pause:I had inquiries to make, and, like the substance of a lady'spostscript, the most important must come last. So I began withasking after Mr. And Mrs. Murray, and Miss Matilda and the younggentlemen. 

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 substantialdinners and suppers, and had quarrelled with his physician, becausethe latter had dared to say that no medicine could cure him whilehe lived so freely; that mamma and the rest were well. Matilda wasstill wild and reckless, but she had got a fashionable governess, and was considerably improved in her manners, and soon to beintroduced to the world; and John and Charles (now at home for theholidays) were, by all accounts, 'fine, bold, unruly, mischievousboys. '

'And how are the other people getting on?' said I--'the Greens, forinstance?'

'Ah! Mr. Green is heart-broken, you know, ' replied she, with alanguid smile: 'he hasn't got over his disappointment yet, andnever will, I suppose. He's doomed to be an old bachelor; and hissisters are doing their best to get married. '

'And the Melthams?'

'Oh, they're jogging on as usual, I suppose: but I know verylittle about any of them--except Harry, ' said she, blushingslightly, and smiling again. 'I saw a great deal of him while wewere in London; for, as soon as he heard we were there, he came upunder pretence of visiting his brother, and either followed me, like a shadow, wherever I went, or met me, like a reflection, atevery turn. You needn't look so shocked, Miss Grey; I was verydiscreet, I assure you, but, you know, one can't help beingadmired. Poor fellow! He was not my only worshipper; though hewas certainly the most conspicuous, and, I think, the most devotedamong them all. And that detestable--ahem--and Sir Thomas chose totake offence at him--or my profuse expenditure, or something--Idon't exactly know what--and hurried me down to the country at amoment's notice; where I'm to play the hermit, I suppose, forlife. '

And she bit her lip, and frowned vindictively upon the fair domainshe 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 anelderly spinster, and married her, not long since; weighing herheavy purse against her faded charms, and expecting to find thatsolace in gold which was denied him in love--ha, ha!'

'Well, and I think that's all--except Mr. Weston: what is hedoing?'

'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 hewent about a month ago--I never asked where' (I would have askedwhether it was to a living or merely another curacy, but thought itbetter not); 'and the people made a great rout about his leaving, 'continued she, 'much to Mr. Hatfield's displeasure; for Hatfielddidn't like him, because he had too much influence with the commonpeople, and because he was not sufficiently tractable andsubmissive to him--and for some other unpardonable sins, I don'tknow what. But now I positively must go and dress: the secondbell will ring directly, and if I come to dinner in this guise, Ishall never hear the end of it from Lady Ashby. It's a strangething one can't be mistress in one's own house! Just ring thebell, 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 ofletting her take herself off to some other house, as she offered todo 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 firstplace, I hoped we should spend the greater part of the year, intown, and in the second place, being so young and inexperienced, Iwas frightened at the idea of having a houseful of servants tomanage, and dinners to order, and parties to entertain, and all therest of it, and I thought she might assist me with her experience;never dreaming she would prove a usurper, a tyrant, an incubus, aspy, and everything else that's detestable. I wish she was dead!'

She then turned to give her orders to the footman, who had beenstanding bolt upright within the door for the last half minute, andhad 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, shereplied--'Oh, no matter! I never care about the footmen; they'remere automatons: it's nothing to them what their superiors say ordo; they won't dare to repeat it; and as to what they think--ifthey presume to think at all--of course, nobody cares for that. Itwould be a pretty thing indeed, it we were to be tongue-tied by ourservants!'

So saying, she ran off to make her hasty toilet, leaving me topilot my way back to my sitting-room, where, in due time, I wasserved with a cup of tea. After that, I sat musing on Lady Ashby'spast and present condition; and on what little information I hadobtained respecting Mr. Weston, and the small chance there was ofever seeing or hearing anything more of him throughout my quiet, drab-colour life: which, henceforth, seemed to offer noalternative between positive rainy days, and days of dull greyclouds without downfall. At length, however, I began to weary ofmy thoughts, and to wish I knew where to find the library myhostess had spoken of; and to wonder whether I was to remain theredoing nothing till bed-time. 

As I was not rich enough to possess a watch, I could not tell howtime was passing, except by observing the slowly lengtheningshadows from the window; which presented a side view, including acorner of the park, a clump of trees whose topmost branches hadbeen colonized by an innumerable company of noisy rooks, and a highwall with a massive wooden gate: no doubt communicating with thestable-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 theground as far as I could see, forcing the golden sunlight toretreat inch by inch, and at last take refuge in the very tops ofthe trees. Ere long, even they were left in shadow--the shadow ofthe distant hills, or of the earth itself; and, in sympathy for thebusy 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 amoment, such birds as soared above the rest might still receive thelustre on their wings, which imparted to their sable plumage thehue and brilliance of deep red gold; at last, that too departed. Twilight came stealing on; the rooks became more quiet; I becamemore weary, and wished I were going home to-morrow. At length itgrew dark; and I was thinking of ringing for a candle, and betakingmyself to bed, when my hostess appeared, with many apologies forhaving 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 istaking 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 ortwice--it is an unpardonable offence against her dear Thomas. SHEnever showed such disrespect to HER husband: and as for affection, wives never think of that now-a-days, she supposes: but thingswere different in HER time--as if there was any good to be done bystaying in the room, when he does nothing but grumble and scoldwhen he's in a bad humour, talk disgusting nonsense when he's in agood one, and go to sleep on the sofa when he's too stupid foreither; which is most frequently the case now, when he has nothingto 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 ofpersuasion, and qualifications for amusing a gentleman, which manyladies 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 pleasethe wife, not hers to please him; and if he isn't satisfied withher as she is--and thankful to possess her too--he isn't worthy ofher, that's all. And as for persuasion, I assure you I shan'ttrouble myself with that: I've enough to do to bear with him as heis, without attempting to work a reform. But I'm sorry I left youso 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 thelibrary; and you must ring for everything you want, just as youwould in an inn, and make yourself comfortable. I have selfishreasons for wishing to make you happy, because I want you to staywith me, and not fulfil your horrid threat of running away in a dayor 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 thestriking of a distant clock. There was no appearance of breakfast. I waited above an hour before it came, still vainly longing foraccess to the library; and, after that lonely repast was concluded, I waited again about an hour and a half in great suspense anddiscomfort, uncertain what to do. At length Lady Ashby came to bidme good-morning. She informed me she had only just breakfasted, and now wanted me to take an early walk with her in the park. Sheasked how long I had been up, and on receiving my answer, expressedthe deepest regret, and again promised to show me the library. Isuggested she had better do so at once, and then there would be nofurther trouble either with remembering or forgetting. Shecomplied, on condition that I would not think of reading, orbothering with the books now; for she wanted to show me thegardens, and take a walk in the park with me, before it became toohot for enjoyment; which, indeed, was nearly the case already. Ofcourse I readily assented; and we took our walk accordingly. 

As we were strolling in the park, talking of what my companion hadseen and heard during her travelling experience, a gentleman onhorseback rode up and passed us. As he turned, in passing, andstared me full in the face, I had a good opportunity of seeing whathe was like. He was tall, thin, and wasted, with a slight stoop inthe shoulders, a pale face, but somewhat blotchy, and disagreeablyred about the eyelids, plain features, and a general appearance oflanguor and flatness, relieved by a sinister expression in themouth and the dull, soulless eyes. 

'I detest that man!' whispered Lady Ashby, with bitter emphasis, ashe slowly trotted by. 

'Who is it?' I asked, unwilling to suppose that she should so speakof her husband. 

'Sir Thomas Ashby, ' she replied, with dreary composure. 

'And do you DETEST him, Miss Murray?' said I, for I was too muchshocked to remember her name at the moment. 

'Yes, I do, Miss Grey, and despise him too; and if you knew him youwould 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 knowyou warned me against it, and I wish I had listened to you: butit's too late to regret that now. And besides, mamma ought to haveknown better than either of us, and she never said anything againstit--quite the contrary. And then I thought he adored me, and wouldlet me have my own way: he did pretend to do so at first, but nowhe 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 myselfand to stay in London, or have a few friends down here: but HEWILL do as he pleases, and I must be a prisoner and a slave. Themoment he saw I could enjoy myself without him, and that othersknew my value better than himself, the selfish wretch began toaccuse me of coquetry and extravagance; and to abuse Harry Meltham, whose shoes he was not worthy to clean. And then he must needshave me down in the country, to lead the life of a nun, lest Ishould dishonour him or bring him to ruin; as if he had not beenten 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 TOObad to feel life, health, and beauty wasting away, unfelt andunenjoyed, for such a brute as that!' exclaimed she, fairlybursting into tears in the bitterness of her vexation. 

Of course, I pitied her exceedingly; as well for her false idea ofhappiness and disregard of duty, as for the wretched partner withwhom her fate was linked. I said what I could to comfort her, andoffered such counsels as I thought she most required: advisingher, first, by gentle reasoning, by kindness, example, andpersuasion, to try to ameliorate her husband; and then, when shehad done all she could, if she still found him incorrigible, toendeavour to abstract herself from him--to wrap herself up in herown integrity, and trouble herself as little about him as possible. I exhorted her to seek consolation in doing her duty to God andman, to put her trust in Heaven, and solace herself with the careand nurture of her little daughter; assuring her she would be amplyrewarded by witnessing its progress in strength and wisdom, andreceiving its genuine affection. 

'But I can't devote myself entirely to a child, ' said she; 'it maydie--which is not at all improbable. '

'But, with care, many a delicate infant has become a strong man orwoman. '

'But it may grow so intolerably like its father that I shall hateit. '

'That is not likely; it is a little girl, and strongly resemblesits mother. '

'No matter; I should like it better if it were a boy--only that itsfather will leave it no inheritance that he can possibly squanderaway. What pleasure can I have in seeing a girl grow up to eclipseme, 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 achild: that is only one degree better than devoting oneself to adog. And as for all the wisdom and goodness you have been tryingto instil into me--that is all very right and proper, I daresay, and if I were some twenty years older, I might fructify by it: butpeople must enjoy themselves when they are young; and if otherswon't let them--why, they must hate them for it!'

'The best way to enjoy yourself is to do what is right and hatenobody. The end of Religion is not to teach us how to die, but howto live; and the earlier you become wise and good, the more ofhappiness you secure. And now, Lady Ashby, I have one more pieceof advice to offer you, which is, that you will not make an enemyof your mother-in-law. Don't get into the way of holding her atarms' length, and regarding her with jealous distrust. I never sawher, but I have heard good as well as evil respecting her; and Iimagine that, though cold and haughty in her general demeanour, andeven exacting in her requirements, she has strong affections forthose who can reach them; and, though so blindly attached to herson, she is not without good principles, or incapable of hearingreason. If you would but conciliate her a little, and adopt afriendly, open manner--and even confide your grievances to her--real grievances, such as you have a right to complain of--it is myfirm belief that she would, in time, become your faithful friend, and a comfort and support to you, instead of the incubus youdescribe her. ' But I fear my advice had little effect upon theunfortunate young lady; and, finding I could render myself solittle serviceable, my residence at Ashby Park became doublypainful. But still, I must stay out that day and the followingone, as I had promised to do so: though, resisting all entreatiesand inducements to prolong my visit further, I insisted upondeparting the next morning; affirming that my mother would belonely without me, and that she impatiently expected my return. Nevertheless, it was with a heavy heart that I bade adieu to poorLady Ashby, and left her in her princely home. It was no slightadditional proof of her unhappiness, that she should so cling tothe consolation of my presence, and earnestly desire the company ofone whose general tastes and ideas were so little congenial to herown--whom she had completely forgotten in her hour of prosperity, and whose presence would be rather a nuisance than a pleasure, ifshe could but have half her heart's desire. 

CHAPTER XXIV--THE SANDS

Our school was not situated in the heart of the town: on enteringA--- from the north-west there is a row of respectable-lookinghouses, on each side of the broad, white road, with narrow slips ofgarden-ground before them, Venetian blinds to the windows, and aflight of steps leading to each trim, brass-handled door. In oneof the largest of these habitations dwelt my mother and I, withsuch young ladies as our friends and the public chose to commit toour charge. Consequently, we were a considerable distance from thesea, and divided from it by a labyrinth of streets and houses. Butthe sea was my delight; and I would often gladly pierce the town toobtain the pleasure of a walk beside it, whether with the pupils, or alone with my mother during the vacations. It was delightful tome at all times and seasons, but especially in the wild commotionof a rough sea-breeze, and in the brilliant freshness of a summermorning. 

I awoke early on the third morning after my return from Ashby Park--the sun was shining through the blind, and I thought how pleasantit would be to pass through the quiet town and take a solitaryramble on the sands while half the world was in bed. I was notlong in forming the resolution, nor slow to act upon it. Of courseI would not disturb my mother, so I stole noiselessly downstairs, and quietly unfastened the door. I was dressed and out, when thechurch clock struck a quarter to six. There was a feeling offreshness and vigour in the very streets; and when I got free ofthe town, when my foot was on the sands and my face towards thebroad, bright bay, no language can describe the effect of the deep, clear azure of the sky and ocean, the bright morning sunshine onthe semicircular barrier of craggy cliffs surmounted by greenswelling hills, and on the smooth, wide sands, and the low rocksout at sea--looking, with their clothing of weeds and moss, likelittle grass-grown islands--and above all, on the brilliant, sparkling waves. And then, the unspeakable purity--and freshnessof the air! There was just enough heat to enhance the value of thebreeze, and just enough wind to keep the whole sea in motion, tomake the waves come bounding to the shore, foaming and sparkling, as if wild with glee. Nothing else was stirring--no livingcreature was visible besides myself. My footsteps were the firstto press the firm, unbroken sands;--nothing before had trampledthem since last night's flowing tide had obliterated the deepestmarks of yesterday, and left them fair and even, except where thesubsiding water had left behind it the traces of dimpled pools andlittle running streams. 

Refreshed, delighted, invigorated, I walked along, forgetting allmy cares, feeling as if I had wings to my feet, and could go atleast forty miles without fatigue, and experiencing a sense ofexhilaration to which I had been an entire stranger since the daysof early youth. About half-past six, however, the grooms began tocome down to air their masters' horses--first one, and thenanother, 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 thelow rocks which I was now approaching. When I had reached these, and walked over the moist, slippery sea-weed (at the risk offloundering into one of the numerous pools of clear, salt waterthat lay between them), to a little mossy promontory with the seasplashing round it, I looked back again to see who next wasstirring. Still, there were only the early grooms with theirhorses, and one gentleman with a little dark speck of a dog runningbefore him, and one water-cart coming out of the town to get waterfor the baths. In another minute or two, the distant bathingmachines would begin to move, and then the elderly gentlemen ofregular habits and sober quaker ladies would be coming to taketheir salutary morning walks. But however interesting such a scenemight be, I could not wait to witness it, for the sun and the seaso dazzled my eyes in that direction, that I could but afford oneglance; and then I turned again to delight myself with the sightand the sound of the sea, dashing against my promontory--with noprodigious force, for the swell was broken by the tangled sea-weedand the unseen rocks beneath; otherwise I should soon have beendeluged with spray. But the tide was coming in; the water wasrising; the gulfs and lakes were filling; the straits werewidening: it was time to seek some safer footing; so I walked, skipped, and stumbled back to the smooth, wide sands, and resolvedto proceed to a certain bold projection in the cliffs, and thenreturn. 

Presently, I heard a snuffling sound behind me and then a dog camefrisking and wriggling to my feet. It was my own Snap--the littledark, wire-haired terrier! When I spoke his name, he leapt up inmy face and yelled for joy. Almost as much delighted as himself, Icaught the little creature in my arms, and kissed him repeatedly. But how came he to be there? He could not have dropped from thesky, or come all that way alone: it must be either his master, therat-catcher, or somebody else that had brought him; so, repressingmy 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 graspingthe 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 onlyfive minutes past seven. 

'But, doubtless, you have had a long enough walk, ' said he, turningtowards the town, to which I now proceeded leisurely to retrace mysteps; and he walked beside me. 

'In what part of the town do you live?' asked he. 'I never coulddiscover. '

Never could discover? Had he endeavoured to do so then? I toldhim the place of our abode. He asked how we prospered in ouraffairs. I told him we were doing very well--that we had had aconsiderable 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, andis so active, and clever, and kind. '

'I should like to know your mother. Will you introduce me to hersome time, if I call?'

'Yes, willingly. '

'And will you allow me the privilege of an old friend, of lookingin upon you now and then?'

'Yes, if--I suppose so. '

This was a very foolish answer, but the truth was, I consideredthat I had no right to invite anyone to my mother's house withouther knowledge; and if I had said, 'Yes, if my mother does notobject, ' it would appear as if by his question I understood morethan was expected; so, SUPPOSING she would not, I added, 'I supposeso:' but of course I should have said something more sensible andmore polite, if I had had my wits about me. We continued our walkfor a minute in silence; which, however, was shortly relieved (nosmall relief to me) by Mr. Weston commenting upon the brightness ofthe morning and the beauty of the bay, and then upon the advantagesA--- possessed over many other fashionable places of resort. 

'You don't ask what brings me to A--- ' said he. 'You can'tsuppose 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 themedium of the--Gazette. But I hope you like your new parish; andthat I may congratulate you on the acquisition?'

'I expect to like my parish better a year or two hence, when I haveworked certain reforms I have set my heart upon--or, at least, progressed some steps towards such an achievement. But you maycongratulate me now; for I find it very agreeable to HAVE a parishall to myself, with nobody to interfere with me--to thwart my plansor cripple my exertions: and besides, I have a respectable housein a rather pleasant neighbourhood, and three hundred pounds ayear; and, in fact, I have nothing but solitude to complain of, andnothing but a companion to wish for. '

He looked at me as he concluded: and the flash of his dark eyesseemed to set my face on fire; greatly to my own discomfiture, forto evince confusion at such a juncture was intolerable. I made aneffort, therefore, to remedy the evil, and disclaim all personalapplication of the remark by a hasty, ill-expressed reply, to theeffect that, if he waited till he was well known in theneighbourhood, he might have numerous opportunities for supplyinghis want among the residents of F--- and its vicinity, or thevisitors of A---, if he required so ample a choice: notconsidering the compliment implied by such an assertion, till hisanswer made me aware of it. 

'I am not so presumptuous as to believe that, ' said he, 'though youtell it me; but if it were so, I am rather particular in my notionsof a companion for life, and perhaps I might not find one to suitme 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 fromperfect myself. '

Here the conversation was interrupted by a water-cart lumberingpast 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, andasses, and men, there was little room for social intercourse, tillwe had turned our backs upon the sea, and begun to ascend theprecipitous road leading into the town. Here my companion offeredme his arm, which I accepted, though not with the intention ofusing it as a support. 

'You don't often come on to the sands, I think, ' said he, 'for Ihave walked there many times, both morning and evening, since Icame, and never seen you till now; and several times, in passingthrough the town, too, I have looked about for your school--but Idid not think of the--Road; and once or twice I made inquiries, butwithout obtaining the requisite information. '

When we had surmounted the acclivity, I was about to withdraw myarm from his, but by a slight tightening of the elbow was tacitlyinformed that such was not his will, and accordingly desisted. Discoursing on different subjects, we entered the town, and passedthrough several streets. I saw that he was going out of his way toaccompany me, notwithstanding the long walk that was yet beforehim; and, fearing that he might be inconveniencing himself frommotives of politeness, I observed--'I fear I am taking you out ofyour way, Mr. Weston--I believe the road to F--- lies quite inanother 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 orhis 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 ofgratitude to heaven for so much bliss, and praying that my hopesmight not again be crushed. 

CHAPTER XXV--CONCLUSION

'Well, Agnes, you must not take such long walks again beforebreakfast, ' said my mother, observing that I drank an extra cup ofcoffee and ate nothing--pleading the heat of the weather, and thefatigue of my long walk as an excuse. I certainly did feelfeverish and tired too. 

'You always do things by extremes: now, if you had taken a SHORTwalk every morning, and would continue to do so, it would do yougood. '

'Well, mamma, I will. '

'But this is worse than lying in bed or bending over your books:you have quite put yourself into 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, Iwaited till the breakfast things were removed, and I was more calmand cool; and then, having sat down to my drawing, I began--'I metan 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 herof Snap, whose history I had recounted before, and related theincident of his sudden appearance and remarkable recognition; 'andthe 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: butyou don't remember. '

'I've heard you speak of Mr. Hatfield. '

'Mr. Hatfield was the rector, and Mr. Weston the curate: I used tomention him sometimes in contradistinction to Mr. Hatfield, asbeing a more efficient clergyman. However, he was on the sandsthis morning with the dog--he had bought it, I suppose, from therat-catcher; and he knew me as well as it did--probably through itsmeans: and I had a little conversation with him, in the course ofwhich, as he asked about our school, I was led to say somethingabout you, and your good management; and he said he should like toknow you, and asked if I would introduce him to you, if he shouldtake the liberty of calling to-morrow; so I said I would. Was Iright?'

'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 fewweeks, I suppose he has made no friends yet, and wants a littlesociety. '

The morrow came. What a fever of anxiety and expectation I was infrom 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 onextremely well together--greatly to my satisfaction, for I had feltvery anxious about what my mother would think of him. He did notstay long that time: but when he rose to take leave, she said sheshould be happy to see him, whenever he might find it convenient tocall again; and when he was gone, I was gratified by hearing hersay, --'Well! I think he's a very sensible man. But why did yousit back there, Agnes, ' she added, 'and talk so little?'

'Because you talked so well, mamma, I thought you required noassistance from me: and, besides, he was your visitor, not mine. '

After that, he often called upon us--several times in the course ofa week. He generally addressed most of his conversation to mymother: and no wonder, for she could converse. I almost enviedthe unfettered, vigorous fluency of her discourse, and the strongsense 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 Iloved and honoured above every one else in the world, discoursingtogether so amicably, so wisely, and so well. I was not alwayssilent, however; nor was I at all neglected. I was quite as muchnoticed as I would wish to be: there was no lack of kind words andkinder looks, no end of delicate attentions, too fine and subtle tobe grasped by words, and therefore indescribable--but deeply feltat heart. 

Ceremony was quickly dropped between us: Mr. Weston came as anexpected guest, welcome at all times, and never deranging theeconomy of our household affairs. He even called me 'Agnes:' thename had been timidly spoken at first, but, finding it gave nooffence in any quarter, he seemed greatly to prefer thatappellation to 'Miss Grey;' and so did I. How tedious and gloomywere 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 ofthe next to cheer me. But when two or three days passed without myseeing him, I certainly felt very anxious--absurdly, unreasonablyso; for, of course, he had his own business and the affairs of hisparish to attend to. And I dreaded the close of the holidays, whenMY business also would begin, and I should be sometimes unable tosee 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 duringthe 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 ofthe coast--a bold hill on the land side, and towards the sea asteep precipice, from the summit of which a glorious view is to behad). '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 hadmerely been going out on some shopping expedition alone. Thethunder-shower had certainly had a most beneficial effect upon theweather, and the evening was most delightful. Mr. Weston wouldhave me to take his arm; he said little during our passage throughthe crowded streets, but walked very fast, and appeared grave andabstracted. I wondered what was the matter, and felt an indefinitedread that something unpleasant was on his mind; and vaguesurmises, concerning what it might be, troubled me not a little, and made me grave and silent enough. But these fantasies vanishedupon reaching the quiet outskirts of the town; for as soon as wecame within sight of the venerable old church, and the--hill, withthe 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 yourconvenience; but now we'll walk as slowly as you please. I see, bythose 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 themost moderate rate of progression. '

When we had got about half-way up the hill, we fell into silenceagain; which, as usual, he was the first to break. 

'My house is desolate yet, Miss Grey, ' he smilingly observed, 'andI am acquainted now with all the ladies in my parish, and severalin 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 isonly one person in the world that will: and that is yourself; andI 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 havefelt it tremble--but it was no great matter now. 

'I hope I have not been too precipitate, ' he said, in a serioustone. 'You must have known that it was not my way to flatter andtalk soft nonsense, or even to speak the admiration that I felt;and that a single word or glance of mine meant more than the honiedphrases and fervent protestations of most other men. '

I said something about not liking to leave my mother, and doingnothing without her consent. 

'I settled everything with Mrs. Grey, while you were putting onyour bonnet, ' replied he. 'She said I might have her consent, if Icould 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 anassistant, and would continue the school till she could purchase anannuity sufficient to maintain her in comfortable lodgings; and, meantime, she would spend her vacations alternately with us andyour sister, and should be quite contented if you were happy. Andso now I have overruled your objections on her account. Have youany 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 willcontent myself with adding, that I shall never forget that glorioussummer evening, and always remember with delight that steep hill, and the edge of the precipice where we stood together, watching thesplendid sunset mirrored in the restless world of waters at ourfeet--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 anassistant, I became the wife of Edward Weston; and never have foundcause to repent it, and am certain that I never shall. We have hadtrials, and we know that we must have them again; but we bear themwell together, and endeavour to fortify ourselves and each otheragainst the final separation--that greatest of all afflictions tothe survivor. But, if we keep in mind the glorious heaven beyond, where both may meet again, and sin and sorrow are unknown, surelythat too may be borne; and, meantime, we endeavour to live to theglory of Him who has scattered so many blessings in our path. 

Edward, by his strenuous exertions, has worked surprising reformsin his parish, and is esteemed and loved by its inhabitants--as hedeserves; for whatever his faults may be as a man (and no one isentirely without), I defy anybody to blame him as a pastor, ahusband, or a father. 

Our children, Edward, Agnes, and little Mary, promise well; theireducation, for the time being, is chiefly committed to me; and theyshall want no good thing that a mother's care can give. Our modestincome is amply sufficient for our requirements: and by practisingthe economy we learnt in harder times, and never attempting toimitate our richer neighbours, we manage not only to enjoy comfortand contentment ourselves, but to have every year something to layby for our children, and something to give to those who need it. 

And now I think I have said sufficient.