 Chapter 7, Wharton Lodge The 31st of January was a wild, tempestuous day. There was a strong north wind, with a continual storm of snow drifting on the ground and whirling through the air. My friends would have had me delay my departure, but fearful of prejudicing my employers against me by such want of punctuality at the commencement of my undertaking, I persisted in keeping the appointment. I will not inflict upon my readers an account of my leaving home on that dark winter morning, the fond farewells, the long, long journey to O, the solitary waitings and inns for coaches or trains, for there were some railways then, and finally the meeting at O with Mr. Murray's servant who had been sent with a faton to drive me from Vince to Wharton Lodge. I will just state that the heavy snow had thrown such impediments in the way of both horses and steam engines that it was dark some hours before I reached my journey's and that a most bewildering storm came on at last, which made the few miles space between O and Wharton Lodge a long and formidable passage. I sat resigned with the cold, sharp snow drifting through my veil and filling my lap, seeing nothing and wondering how the unfortunate horse and driver could make their way even as well as they did, and indeed it was but a toilsome creeping style of progression to say the best of it. At length we paused and at the call of the driver, someone unlatched and rolled back upon their creaking hinges, what appeared to be the park gates. Then we proceeded along a smoother road, whence occasionally I perceived some huge, hoary mask gleaming through the darkness, which I took to be a portion of a snow-clad tree. After a considerable time we paused again, before the stately portico of a large house with long windows descending to the ground. I rose with some difficulty from under the super-incumbent snow-drift and alighted from the carriage, expecting that a kind and hospitable reception would indemnify me for the toils and hardships of the day. A gentleman person in black opened the door and admitted me into a spacious hall, lighted by an amber-colored lamp suspended from the ceiling. He led me through this, a long passage, and opening the door of a back room told me that was the schoolroom. I entered and found two young ladies and two young gentlemen, my future pupils I supposed. After formal greeting, the elder girl, who was trifling over a piece of canvas in a basket of German wools, asked if I would like to go upstairs, I replied in the affirmative, of course. Matilda, take a candle and show her her room, she said. Miss Matilda, a strapping hoidon of about fourteen, with a short frock and trousers, struck her shoulders and made a slight grimace, but took a candle and proceeded before me up the back stairs, a long, steep double flight, and threw a long narrow passage to a small but tolerably comfortable room. She then asked me if I would take some tea or coffee. I was about to answer no, but remembering that I had taken nothing since seven o'clock that morning and feeling faint in consequence, I said I would have a cup of tea. Saying she would tell Brown, the young lady departed, and by the time I had divested myself of my heavy wet cloak, shawl, bonnet, etc., a mincing damsel came to say the young ladies desired to know whether I would take my tea up there or in the schoolroom. Under the plea of fatigue I chose to take it there. She withdrew and after a while returned again with a small tea tray and placed it on the chest of drawers, which served as a dressing table. Being civilly thanked her I asked her at what time I should be expected to rise in the morning. The young ladies and gentlemen breakfast at half past eight mamps said she, they rise early, but as they seldom do any lessons before breakfast, I should think it will do if you rise soon after seven. I desired her to be so kind as to call me at seven, and promising to do so she withdrew. Then having broken my long fast on a cup of tea and a little thin bread and butter, I sat down beside the small smoldering fire and amused myself with a hearty fit of crying, after which I said my prayers and then feeling considerably relieved began to prepare for bed. Finding that none of my luggage was brought up, I instituted a search for the bell and failing to discover any signs of such a convenience in any corner of the room. I took my candle and ventured through the long passage and down the steep stairs on a voyage of discovery. Being a well-dressed female on the way, I told her what I wanted, but not without considerable hesitation, for I was not quite sure whether it was one of the upper servants or Mrs. Murray herself. It happened, however, to be the ladies' maid. With the arrow going conferring an unusual favour, she vouchsafed to undertake the sending up of my things, and when I had re-entered my room and waited and wondered a long time, greatly fearing that she had forgotten or neglected to perform her promise, and doubting whether to keep waiting or to go to bed or go down again, my hopes at length were revived by the sound of voices and laughter, accompanied by the tramp of feet along the passage, and presently the luggage was brought in by a rough-looking maid and a man, neither of them very respectful and their demeanor to me. Having shut the door upon their retiring footsteps and unpacked a few of my things, I betook myself to rest, gladly enough, for I was weary in body and mind. It was with a strange feeling of desolation, mingled with a strong sense of the novelty of my situation, and a joyless kind of curiosity concerning what was yet unknown, that I awoke the next morning, feeling like one whirled away by enchantment, and suddenly dropped from the clouds into a remote and unknown land, widely and completely isolated from all he had ever seen or known before, or like a thistle seed born on the wind to some strange nook of uncongenial soil, where it must lie long enough before it can take root and germinate, extracting nourishment from what appears so alien to its nature, if indeed it ever can. But this gives no proper idea of my feelings at all, and no one that has not lived such a retired, stationary life as mine can possibly imagine what they were, hardly even if he is known what it is to awake some warning and find himself in Port Nelson, in New Zealand, with a world of waters between himself and all that knew him. I shall not soon forget the peculiar feeling with which I raised my blind and looked out upon the unknown world, a wide white wilderness was all that met my gaze, a waste of deserts tossed in snow and heavy laden groves. I descended to the school room with no remarkable eagerness to join my pupils, though not without some feeling of curiosity respecting what a further acquaintance would reveal. One thing, among others of more obvious importance, I determined with myself, I must begin with calling them Miss and Master. It seemed to me a chilling and unnatural piece of punctilio between the children of a family and their instructor and daily companion, especially where the former were in their early childhood, as at Wellwood House. But even there, my calling the little Bloomfields by their simple names, had been regarded as an offence of liberty, as their parents had taken care to show me, by carefully designating them Master and Miss Bloomfield, etc., and speaking to me. I had been very slow to take the hint, because the whole affair struck me as so absurd, but now I determined to be wiser and begin at once with as much form and ceremony as any member of the family would be likely to require, and indeed, the children being so much older, there would be less difficulty, though the little words Miss and Master seemed to have a surprising effect in repressing all familiar, open-hearted kindness and extinguishing every gleam of cordiality that might arise between us. As I cannot, like Dogberry, find it in my house to bestow all my tediousness upon my reader, I will not go on to bore him with a minute detail of all the discoveries and proceedings of this and the following day. No doubt he will be amply satisfied with a slight sketch of the different members of the family, and a general view of the first year or two of my sojourn among them. To begin with the head, Mr. Murray was, by all accounts, a blustering, roistering country squire, a devoted foxhunter, a skillful horse-drockie and farrier, an active practical farmer, and a hardy bonvivant. By all accounts, I say, for except on Sundays when he went to church, I never saw him for months a month, unless, in crossing the hall or walking in the grounds, the figure of a tall, stout gentleman with scarlet cheeks and crimson nose happened to come across me, on which occasions, if he passed near enough to speak, an unceremonious nod accompanied by a morning mist gray, or some such brief salutation, was usually vouchsafed. Frequently indeed his loud laugh reached me from afar, and often or still I heard him swearing in blasphemy against the footmen, groom, coachmen, or some other hapless dependent. Mrs. Murray was a handsome, dashing lady of forty, who certainly required neither rouge nor padding to add to her charms, and whose chief enjoyments were, or seemed to be, in giving or frequenting parties, and in dressing at the very top of the fashion. I did not see her till eleven o'clock on the morning after my arrival, when she honoured me with a visit, just as my mother might step into the kitchen to see a new servant girl. Yet not so, either, for my mother would have seen her immediately after her arrival, and not waited till the next day, and moreover she would have addressed her in a more kind and friendly manner, and given her some words of comfort, as well as a plain exposition of her duties. But Mrs. Murray did neither the one nor the other. She just stepped into the school room on her return from ordering dinner in the housekeeper's room, baked me good morning, stood for two minutes by the fire, said a few words about the weather, and the rather rough journey I must have had yesterday, petted her youngest child, a boy of ten, who had just been wiping his mouth and hands on her gown, after indulging in some savory morsel from the housekeeper's store, told me what a sweet good boy he was, and then settled out, with a self-complacent smile upon her face, thinking, no doubt, that she had done quite enough for the present, and had been delightfully condescending into the bargain. Her children evidently held the same opinion, and I alone thought otherwise. After this she looked in upon me once or twice, during the absence of my pupils, to enlighten me concerning my duties toward them. For the girls she seemed anxious only to render them as superficially attractive and showly accomplished as they could possibly be, without present trouble or discomfort to themselves, and I was to act accordingly, to study and strive to amuse and oblige, instruct, refine, and polish, with the least possible exertion on their part, and no exercise of authority on mine. With regard to the two boys it was much the same, only instead of accomplishments, I was to get the greatest possible quantity of Latin grammar and valpe's delectus into their heads in order to fit them for school, the greatest possible quantity at least, without trouble to themselves. John might be a little high-spirited, and Charles might be a little nervous and tedious. But at all events, Miss Gray, said she, I hope you will keep your temper and be mild and patient throughout, especially with the dear little Charles. He is so extremely nervous and susceptible, and so utterly unaccustomed to anything but the tenderest treatment. You will excuse my naming these things to you, for the fact is, I have hitherto found all the governesses, even the very best of them, faulty in this particular. They wanted that meek and quiet spirit, which St. Matthew, or some of them, says as better than the putting on of apparel. You will know the passage to which I allude, for you are clergyman's daughter. But I have no doubt you will give satisfaction in this respect as well as the rest. And remember, on all occasions, when any of the young people do anything improper, if persuasion and gentler remonstrance will not do, let one of the others come and tell me, for I can speak to them more plainly than it would be proper for you to do. And make them as happy as you can, Miss Gray, and I daresay you will do very well. I observed that while Mrs. Moray was so extremely solicitous for the comfort and happiness of her children, and continually talking about it, she never once mentioned mine, though they were at home, surrounded by friends, and I, an alien among strangers, and I did not yet know enough of the world to not be considerably surprised at this anomaly. Miss Moray, otherwise rosely, was about sixteen when I came, and decidedly a very pretty girl, and in two years longer, as Ty more completely developed her form, and added grace to her carriage and deportment, she became positively beautiful, and added no common degree. She was tall and slender, yet not thin, perfectly formed, exquisitely fair, though not without a brilliant, healthy bloom. Her hair, which she worn a perfusion of long ringlets, was of a very light brown and clining to yellow. Her eyes were pale blue, but so clear and bright that few would wish them darker. The rest of her features were small, not quite regular, and not remarkably otherwise, but altogether you could not hesitate to pronounce her a very lovely girl. I wish I could say as much for minded disposition as I can for her form and face. Yet think not I have any dreadful disclosures to make. She was lively, light-hearted, and could be very agreeable with those who did not cross her will. Towards me when I first came she was cold and haughty, then insolent and overbearing, but on a further acquaintance she gradually laid aside her heirs, and in time became as deeply attached to me as it was possible for her to be to one of my character in position, for she seldom lost sight, for above half an hour at a time, of the fact of my being a hireling and a poor curate's daughter. And yet, upon the whole, I believe she respected me more than she herself was aware of, because I was the only person in the house who steadily professed good principles, habitually spoke the truth, and generally endeavored to make inclination vows or duty, and this I say, not of course in commendation to myself, but to show the unfortunate state of the family to which my services were, for the present, devoted. There was no member of it in whom I regretted this sad one-to-principle so much as Miss Murray herself, not only because she had taken a fancy to me, but because there was so much of what was pleasant and prepossessing in herself, that in spite of her failings I really liked her, when she did not rouse my indignation or ruffle my temper by too great a display of her faults. These however I would find persuade myself were rather the effect of her education than her disposition. She had never been perfectly taught the distinction between right and wrong. She had, like her brothers and sisters, been suffered from infancy to tear in eyes of her nurses, governesses, and servants. She had not been taught to moderate her desires, to control her temper, or bridle her will, or to sacrifice her own pleasure for the good of others. Her temper being naturally good, she was never violent or morose, but from constant indulgence and habitual scorn of reason. She was often testy and capricious. Her mind had never been cultivated. Her intellect, at best, was somewhat shallow. She possessed considerable vivacity, some quickness of perception, and some talent for music and the acquisition of languages. But till 15, she had troubled herself to acquire nothing. Then the love of display had roused her faculties and induced her to apply herself, but only to the more showy accomplishments. And when I came, it was the same. Everything was neglected but French, German, music, singing, dancing, fancy work, and a little drawing. Such drawing is might produce the greatest show with the smallest labor, and the principal parts of which were generally done by me. For music and singing, besides my occasional instructions, she had the attendance of the best master the country afforded, and in these accomplishments, as well as in dancing, she certainly attained great proficiency. To music indeed, she devoted too much of her time. As governess though I was, I frequently told her. But her mother thought that if she liked it, she could not give too much time to the acquisition of so attractive an art. A fancy work, I knew nothing but what I gathered from my pupil and my own observation. But no sooner was I initiated than she made me useful in 20 different ways. All the tedious parts of her work were shifted onto my shoulders, such as stretching the flames, stitching in the canvas, sorting the wools and silks, putting in the grounds, counting the stitches, rectifying mistakes, and finishing the pieces she was tired of. At 16, Miss Marais was something of a romp. Yet not more so than is natural and allowable for a girl of that age. But at 17, that propensity, like all other things, began to give way to the ruling passion, and soon was swallowed up in the all-absorbing ambition to attract and dazzle the other sex. But enough of her. Now let us turn to her sister. Miss Matilda Marais was a veritable wooden, of whom little need be said. She was about two years and a half younger than her sister. Her features were larger. Her complexion much darker. She might possibly make a handsome woman. She was far too big-boned and awkward ever to be called a pretty girl. And at present she cared little about it. Rosalie knew all her charms, and thought them even greater than they were, and valued them more highly than she ought to have done, had they been three times as great. Matilda thought she was well enough, but cared little about the matter. Still less did she care about the cultivation of her mind and the acquisition of ornamental accomplishments. The manner in which she learned her lessons and practiced her music was calculated to drive any governess to despair. Short and easy as her tasks were, if done at all, they were slurred over at any time and in any way, but generally at the least convenient times, and in the way least beneficial to herself and least satisfactory to me. The short half hour of practicing was horribly strummed through. She, meantime, unsparingly abusing me, either for interrupting her with corrections, or for not rectifying her mistakes before they were made, or something equally unreasonable. Once or twice I ventured to remonstrate with her seriously for such irrational conduct, but on each of these occasions, I received such reprehensive expostulations from her mother, as convinced me that, if I wished to keep the situation, I must even let Miss Matilda go on in her own way. When her lessons were over, however, her ill humor was generally over, too. While riding her spirited pony, or romping with the dogs or her brothers and sister, but especially with her dear brother, John, she was as happy as a lark. As an animal, Matilda was all right, full of life, figure, and activity. As an intelligent being, she was barbarously ignorant, indossile, careless, and irrational, and consequently, very distressing to one who had the task of cultivating her understanding, reforming her manners, and aiding her to acquire those ornamental attainments which, unlike her sister, she despised as much as the rest. Her mother was partly aware of her deficiencies and gave me many a lecture as to how I should try to form her tastes, and endeavor to rouse and cherish her dormant vanity, and by insinuating skillful flattery to win her attention to the desired objects, which I would not do, and how I should prepare and smooth the path of learning till she could glide along it without the least exertion to herself, which I could not, for nothing gave me dot to any purpose without some little exertion on the part of the learner. As a moral agent, Matilda was reckless, headstrong, violent, and unimaginable to reason. One proof of the deplorable state of her mind was that from her father's example, she had learned to swear like a trooper. Her mother was greatly shocked by the unladylike trick and wondered how she had picked it up. But you can soon break her up, Miss Gray, said she. It is only a habit, and if you will just gently remind her every time she does so, I am sure she will soon lay it aside. I not only gently reminded her, I tried to impress upon her how wrong it was and how distressing to the ears of decent people, but all in vain. I was only answered by a careless laugh and, oh, Miss Gray, how shocked you are, I'm so glad. Or, well, I can't tell that Papa shouldn't have taught me. I learned it all from him, and maybe a bit from the coachman. Her brother, John, alias Master Moray, was about 11 when I came, a fine, stout, healthy boy, frank and good-hearted in the main, and might have been a decent lad had he been properly educated. But now he was as rough as a young bear, boisterous, unruly, unprincipled, untaught, unteachable, at least for a governess under his mother's eye. His masters at school might be able to manage him better, for to school he was sent, greatly to my relief in the course of a year, in a state it is true of scandalous ignorance as to Latin, as well as the more useful, though more neglected things. And this stateless would all be laid to the account of his education, having been entrusted to an ignorant female teacher who had presumed to take in hand what she was wholly incompetent to perform. I was not delivered from his brother till a full 12 months after, when he also was despatched in the same state of disgraceful ignorance as the former. Master Charles was his mother's peculiar darling. He was little more than a year younger than John, but much smaller, paler, and less active and robust. A petish, cowardly, capricious, selfish little fellow, only active in doing mischief and only clever in inventing falsehoods, not simply to hide his faults, but in mere malicious wantonness, to bring odium upon others. In fact, Master Charles was a very great nuisance to me. It was a trial of patience to live with him peaceably, to watch over him was worse, and to teach him or pretend to teach him was inconceivable. At 10 years old, he could not read correctly the easiest line and simplest book. And as according to his mother's principle, he was to be told every word before he had time to hesitate or examine his orthography and never even to be informed as a stimulant to exertion that other boys were more forward than he. It is not surprising that he made but little progress during the two years I had charge of his education. His my new portions of Latin grammar, et cetera, were to be repeated over to him till he chose to say he knew them, and then he was to be helped to say them. If he made mistakes in his little easy sums in arithmetic, they were to be shown him at once, and the sum done for him, instead of his being left to exercise his faculties in finding them out himself, so that of course he took no pains to avoid mistakes, but frequently set down his figures at random, without any calculation at all. I did not invariably confine myself to these rules. It was against my conscience to do so, but I seldom could venture to deviate from them in the slightest degree, without incurring the wrath of my little pupil and subsequently of his mama, to whom he would relate my transgressions maliciously exaggerated or adorned with the bellishments of his own, and often in consequence, was I on the point of losing or resigning my situation. But for their sakes at home, I smothered my pride and suppressed my indignation and managed to struggle on till my little tormentor was dispatched to school. His father declaring that home education was no go for him, it was plain. His mother spoiled him outrageously and his governess could make no hand of him at all. A few more observations about Horton Lodge and its ongoings, and I have done with dry description for the present. The house was a very respectable one, superior to Mr. Bloomfield's, both in age, size, and magnificence. The garden was not so tastefully laid out, but instead of the smooth-shaven lawn, the young trees guarded by palings, the grove of upstart poplars and the plantation of furs, there was a wide park stocked with deer and putified by final trees. The surrounding country itself was pleasant as far as fertile fields, flourishing trees, quiet green lanes, and smiling hedges with wildflowers scattered along their banks could make it. But it was depressingly flat to one born and nurtured among the rugged hills of blank. We were situated nearly two miles from the village church and consequently the family carriage was put into requisition every Sunday morning and sometimes oftener. Mr. and Mrs. Moret generally thought it sufficient to show themself at church once in the course of the day, but frequently the children preferred going a second time to wandering about the grounds all the day with nothing to do. If some of my pupils chose to walk and take me with them, it was well for me. For otherwise, my position in the carriage was to be crushed into the corner farthest from the open window and with my back to the horses, a position which invariably made me sick. And if I were not actually obliged to leave the church in the middle of the service, my devotions were disturbed by a feeling of languor and sickliness and the tormenting fear of it's becoming worse and a depressing headache was generally my companion throughout the day, which would otherwise have been one of welcome rest and holy, calm enjoyment. It's very odd, Ms. Gray, that the carriage should always make you sick. It never makes me, reparked Ms. Matilda. Nor me either, said her sister, but I daresay it would if I sat where she does. Such a nasty horrid place, Ms. Gray. I wonder how you can bear it. I am obliged to bear it, since no choices left me, I might have answered. But in tenderness for their feelings, I only replied, oh, it is but a short way and if I am not sick in church, I don't mind it. If I were called upon to give a description of the usual divisions and arrangements of the day, I should find it a very difficult matter. I had all my meals in the schoolroom with my pupils at such times as suited their fancy. Sometimes they would ring for dinner before it was half cooked. Sometimes they would keep it waiting on the table for above an hour and then be out of humor because the potatoes were cold and the gravy covered with cakes of solid fat. Sometimes they would have tea at four. Frequently they would storm at the servants because it was not in precisely at five and when these orders were obeyed by way of encouragement to punctuality, they would keep it on the table till seven or eight. Their hours of study were managed in much the same way. My judgment or conscience was never once consulted. Sometimes Matilda and John would determine to get all the plaguey business over before breakfast and send the maid to call me up at half past five without any scruple or apology. Sometimes I was told to be ready precisely at six and having dressed in a hurry came down to an empty room and after waiting a long time in suspense discovered that they had changed their mind and were still in bed or perhaps if it were a fine summer morning, Brian would come to tell me that the young ladies and gentlemen had taken a holiday and were gone out and then it was kept waiting for breakfast till I was almost ready to faint. They having fortified themselves with something before they went. Often they would do their lessons in the open air which I had nothing to say against except that I frequently caught cold by sitting on the damp grass or from exposure to the evening dew or some insidious draft which seemed to have no injurious effect on them. It was quite right that they should be hearty yet surely they might have been taught some consideration for others who were less so but I must not blame them for what was perhaps by own fault for I never made any particular objections to sitting where they pleased foolishly choosing to risk the consequences rather than trouble them for my convenience. Their in-decorous manner of doing their lessons was quite as remarkable as the Caprice displayed in their time of choice in place. While we're saving my instructions or repeating what they had learned, they would lounge upon the sofa, lie on the rug, stretch, yawn, talk to each other or look out of the window. Whereas I could not so much as stir the fire or pick up the handkerchief I had dropped without being rebuked for inattention by one of my pupils or told that my ma would not like me to be so careless. Servants, seeing from a little estimation the governess was held by both parents and children, regulated their behavior by the same standard. I frequently stood up for them at the risk of some injury to myself against the tyranny and injustice of their young masters and mistresses and I always endeavored to give them as little trouble as possible but they entirely neglected my comfort, despised my requests, and slighted my directions. All servants I am convinced would not have done so but domestics in general, being ignorant and little accustomed to reason and reflection are too easily corrupted by the carelessness and bad example of those above them and these I think were not of the best order to begin with. I sometimes felt myself degraded by the life I led and ashamed of submitting to so many indignities and sometimes I thought myself a fool for caring so much about them and feared I must be sadly wanting in Christian humility or that charity which suffered long and is kind, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, beareth all things, endureth all things. But with time and patience, matters began to be slightly ameliorated. Slowly it is true and almost imperceptibly but I got rid of my male pupils. That was no trifling advantage and the girls, as I intimated before concerning one of them became a little less insolent and began to show some symptoms of esteem. Miss Gray was a queer creature. She never flattered and did not praise them half enough but whenever she did speak favorably of them or anything belonging to them they could be quite sure her approbation was sincere. She was very obliging, quiet and peaceable in the main but there were some things that put her out of temper. They did not much care for that to be sure but still it was better to keep her in tune as when she was in a good humor she would talk to them and be very agreeable and amusing sometimes in her way which was quite different to Mama's but still very well for a change. She had her own opinions on every subject and kept steadily to them very tiresome opinions they often were as she was always thinking of what was right and what was wrong and had a strange reverence for matters connected with religion and an unaccountable liking to good people. End of chapter seven. Recording by Melissa. Chapter eight of Agnes Gray. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Melissa. Agnes Gray by Anne Bronte. Chapter eight, The Coming Out. At 18, Miss Murray was to emerge from the quiet obscurity of the school room into the full blaze of the fashionable world. As much of it at least as could be had out of London where her papa could not be persuaded to leave his rural pubgers in the pursuits even for a few weeks residence in town. She was to make her debut on the third of January at a magnificent ball which her mama proposed to give to all the nobility a choice gentry of O and its neighborhood for 20 miles round. Of course she looked forward to it with the wildest impatience and the most extravagant anticipations of delight. Miss Gray said she went evening a month before the all important day as I was perusing along an extremely interesting letter at my sister's which I had just glanced at in the morning to see that it contained no very bad news and kept it till now. Unable before to find a quiet moment for reading it. Miss Gray do put away that dull stupid letter and listen to me. I am sure my talk must be far more amusing than that. She seated herself on the low stool at my feet and I suppressing a sigh of excation began to fold up the epistle. You should tell the good people at home not to bore you with such long letters that she and above all do bid them to write on proper note paper and not on those great vulgar sheets. You should see the charming little lady like notes from a mall writes to her friends. The good people at home replied I know very well that the longer the letters are the better I like them. I should be very sorry to receive a charming little lady like note for many of them. And I thought you were too much of a lady yourself, Miss Murray to talk about the vulgarity of writing on a large sheet of paper. Oh I only said it to tease you but now I want to talk about the ball and to tell you that you positively must put off your holidays till it is over. Why so? I shall not be present at the ball. No, but you will see the room stacked out before it begins and hear the music and above all see me in my splendid new dress. I shall be so charming you'll be ready to worship me. You really must stay. I should like to see you very much but I shall have many opportunities of seeing you equally charming on the occasion of some of the numberless balls and parties that are to be. And I cannot disappoint my friends by postponing my return so long. Oh never mind your friends, tell them we won't let you go. But to say the truth it would be a disappointment to myself. I long to see them as much as they to see me, perhaps more. Well, but it is such a short time. Nearly a fortnight by my computation and besides I cannot bear the thought of a Christmas spent from home. And moreover my sister is going to be married. Is she win? Not till next month but I want to be there to assist her in making preparations and to make the best of her company while we have her. Why didn't you tell me before? I only got the news in this letter which you stigmatize as dull and stupid and won't let me read. To whom is she to be married? To Mr. Richardson, the vicar of the neighboring 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 and old fashioned garden and oh stop, you'll make me sick. How can she bear it? I expect she'll not only be able to bear it but to be very happy. You did not ask me if Mr. Richardson were a good, wise or amiable man. I could have answered yes to all these questions. At least so Mary thinks and I hope she will not find herself mistaken. But miserable preacher, how could she think of spending her life there cooped up with that nasty old man and no hope of change? He is not old, he is only six or seven and 30 and she herself is 28 and is sober as if she were 50. Oh, that's better than they're well matched but do they call him the worthy vicar? I don't know but if they do I believe he bears the epitent. Mercy, how shocking. And will she wear a white apron and make pies and puddings? I don't know about the white apron but I daresay she will make pies and puddings now and then but that won't be no great hardship but she has done it before. And will she go about in a plain shawl and a large straw bonnet carrying tracks and bone soup to her husband's poor parishioners? I'm not clear about that but I daresay she will do her best to make them comfortable in body and mind in accordance with our mother's example. End of chapter eight, recording by Melissa. Chapter nine of Agnes Gray. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Agnes Gray by Anne Bronte. Chapter nine, The Ball. Now, Miss Gray, exclaimed Miss Murray. Immediately I entered the school room after having taken off my outdoor garments upon returning for my four weeks recreation. Now, shut the door and sit down and I'll tell you all about the ball. No, dammit, no, shouted Miss Matilda. Hold your tongue, can't you? And let me tell her about my new mare. Such a splendor, Miss Gray, a fine blood mare. Do be quiet, Matilda, and let me tell my news first. No, no, Rosalie, you'll be such a damned long time over it. She shall hear me first. I'll be hanged if she doesn't. I'm sorry to hear, Miss Matilda, that you've not got rid of that shocking habit yet. Well, I can't help it, but I'll never say a wicked word again if you'll only listen to me until Rosalie to hold her compounded tongue. Rosalie remonstrated, and I thought I should have been twine pieces between them. But Miss Matilda, having the loudest voice, her sister at length gave in and suffered her to tell her story first. So I was doomed to hear a long count of her splendid mare, its breeding and pedigree, its paces, its action, its spirit, et cetera, and have her own amazing skill and courage in writing it, concluding with an assertion that she could clear a five-barred gate like Winking, that Papa said she might hunt the next time the hounds met, and Mama had ordered bright scarlet hunting habit for her. Oh, Matilda, what stories you are telling, exclaimed your sister. Well, answered she, no wit abashed. I know I could clear a five-barred gate if I tried, and Papa will say I may hunt, and Mama 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 ladylike. Miss Gray, I wish you would tell her not to use such shocking words. She will call her horse a mare. It is so inconceivably shocking, and then she uses dreadful expressions in describing it. She must have learned it from the grooms. It nearly puts me into fits when she begins. I learned it from Papa, you ass, and she's jolly friends, so the young lady vigorously cracking a horse whip which she habitually carried in her hand. I'm as good judge of horse flesh as the best of them. Well, now get along, you shocking girl. I really shall take a fit if you go on in such a way, and now Miss Gray, attend to me. I'm going to tell you about the ball. You must be dying to hear about it, I know. Oh, such a ball. You never saw, or heard, or read, or dreamt of anything like it in all your life. The decorations, the entertainment, the supper, the music were indescribable, and then the guests. There were two noblemen, three baronettes, and five titled ladies, and other ladies and gentlemen innumerable. The ladies, of course, were of no consequence to me, except to put me in good humor with myself by showing how ugly and awkward most of them were. And the best, Mama told me, the most transcendent beauties among them were nothing to me. As for me, Miss Gray, I'm so sorry you didn't see me. I was charming, wasn't I, Matilda? Meddling. No, but I really was, at least so Mama said, and Brown and Williamson. Brown said she was sure, no gentlemen, to eyes on me without falling in love that minute. And so I may be allowed to be a little vain. I know you think me a shocking conceited frivolous girl, but then, you know, I don't attribute it all to my personal attractions. I give some praise to the hairdresser, and some to my exquisitely lovely dress. You must see it tomorrow, white gauze over pink satin, and so sweetly made, and a necklace and bracelet of beautiful large pearls. I have no doubt you looked very charming, but should that delight you so very much? Oh, no, not that alone, but then I was so much admired, and I made so many conquests, and that one night, you'd be astonished to hear. But what good will they do you? What good? Think of any woman asking that. Well, I should think one conquest would be enough, and too much, unless the subjugation were mutual. Oh, but you know I never agree with you on those points. Now wait a bit, and I'll tell you my principal admirers, those who made themselves very conspicuous that night and after, for I've been to two parties since. Unfortunately the two noblemen, Lord G. and Lord F., were married, or I might have condescended to be particularly gracious to them, as it was I did not. Though Lord F., who hates his wife, was evidently much struck with me, he asked me to dance with him twice. He is a charming dancer by the by, and so am I. You can't think how well I did. I was astonished at myself. My Lord was very complimentary too, rather too much so in fact, and I thought proper to be a little haughty and repellent. But I had the pleasure of seeing his nasty cross-wife ready to perish with spite and vexation. Oh, Miss Murray, you don't mean to say that such a thing could really give you pleasure. However, Crosser, well, I know it's very wrong, but never mind. I mean to be good sometime. Only don't preach now. There's a good creature. I haven't told you half yet. Let me see. Oh, I was going to tell you how many unmistakable admirers I had. Sir Thomas Ashby was one. Sir Hugh Meltham and Sir Bradley Wilson are old cauchers, only fit companions for Papa and Mama. Sir Thomas is young, rich and gay, but an ugly beast nevertheless. However, Mama says I should not mind that after a few months' acquaintance, then there was Henry Meltham, Sir Hugh's younger son, rather good-looking, and a pleasant fellow to flirt with. But being a younger son, that is all he is good for. Then there was young Mr. Green, rich enough, but of no family, and a great stupid fellow, a mere country booby. And then our good rector, Mr. Hatfield, an umbil admirer he ought to consider himself, but I fear he has forgotten to number humility among his stock of Christian virtues. Was Mr. Hatfield at the ball? Yes, to be sure. Did you think he was too good to go? I thought he might consider it unclerical. By no means. He did not profane his cloth by dancing, but it was with difficulty he could refrain for a man. He looked as if he were dying to ask my hand for just one set. And oh, by the by, he's got a new curate. That seedy old fellow, Mr. Bly, has got his long wished for living at last, and is gone. And what is the new one like? Oh, such a beast! West in his name is. I can give you his description in three words. An insensate, ugly, stupid blockhead. That's four. But no matter, enough of him now. Then she returned to the ball, gave me further account of her deportment there, and at the several parties she had since attended, and further particulars respecting Sir Thomas Ashby and Messrs Maltham Green and Hatfield, and the ineffasible impression she had wrought upon each of them. Well, which of the four do you like best, said I? Suppressing my third or fourth yawn. I detest them all, replied she, shaking her bright ringlets in vivacious scorn. That means, I suppose, I like them all. But which most? No, I really detest them all. But Henry Maltham is the handsomest and most amusing. And Mr. Hatfield the cleverest. Sir Thomas the wickedest, and Mr. Green the most stupid. But the one I'm meant to have, I suppose, if I'm doomed to have any of them, is Sir Thomas Ashby. Surely not if he's so wicked and if you dislike him. Oh, I don't mind his being wicked. He's all the better for that, and as for disliking him, I shouldn't greatly object to being Lady Ashby of Ashby Park if I must marry. But if I could always be young, I would be always single. I should like to enjoy myself thoroughly and coquette with all the world till I am on the verge of being called an old maid, and then to escape the infamy of that after having made ten thousand conquests to break all their hearts safe one by marrying some high-born, rich, indulgent husband, whom, on the other hand, fifty ladies were dying to have. Well, as long as you entertain those views, keep single by all means and never marry at all, not even to escape the infamy of old maidenhood. End of Chapter 9. Recording by Melissa. Chapter 10 of Agnes Gray. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Melissa. Agnes Gray by Anne Bronte. Chapter 10. The Church. Well, Miss Gray, what do you think of the new curate, asked Miss Marais, on her return from church the Sunday after the recommencement of our duties? I can scarcely tell was my reply. I have not even heard him preach. Well, but you saw him, didn't you? Yes, but I cannot pretend to judge of a man's character by a single cursory glance at his face. But isn't he ugly? He did not strike me as being particularly so. I don't dislike that cast of countenance, but the only thing I particularly noticed about him was his style of reading, which appeared to be good, infinitely better, at least, than Mr. Hatfield's. He read the lessons as if you were bent on giving full effect to every passage. It seemed as if the most careless person could not have helped attending, nor the most ignorant have failed to understand, and the prayers he read as if you were not reading at all, but praying earnestly and sincerely from his heart. Oh, yes, that's all he is good for. He can plod through the service well enough, but he has not a single idea beyond it. How do you know? Oh, I know perfectly well. I am an excellent judge in such matters. Did you see how he went out of the church? Stumping along as if there were nobody there but himself. Never looking to the right hand or the left, and evidently thinking of nothing, but just getting out of the church, and perhaps home to his dinner. His great stupid head could contain no other idea. I suppose you would have had him cast a glance into the squire's pew, said I, laughing at the remnants of her hostility. Indeed! I should have been highly indignant if he had dared to do such a thing, replied she, hodlily tousing her head. Then after a moment's reflection she added, well, well, I suppose he's good enough for his place, but I'm glad I'm not dependent on him for amusement. That's all. Did you see how Mr. Hatfield hurried out to get a bow for me, and be in time to put us into the carriage? Yes, answered I, internally adding, and I thought it somewhat derogatory of his dignity as a clergyman, to come flying from the pulpit in such eager haste to shake hands with the squire, and to hand his wives and daughters into the carriage. And moreover, I owe him a grudge for nearly shutting me out of it. For in fact, though I was standing before his face, close beside the carriage-steps, waiting to get in, he would persist in pulling them up and closing the door, till one of the families stopped him by calling out that the governess was not in yet. Then, without a word of apology, he departed, wishing them good-bye, and leaving the footmen to finish the business. No to Ben. Mr. Hatfield never spoke to me. Neither did Sir Hugh or Lady Melfam, nor Mr. Harry or Miss Melfam, nor Mr. Green or his sisters, nor any other lady or gentleman who frequented that church, nor, in fact, anyone that visited Horton Lodge. Miss Moray ordered the carriage again in the afternoon for herself and her sister. She said it was too cold for them to enjoy themselves in the garden, and besides, she believed Henry Melfam would be at church. Before she said she, smiling slightly at her own fair image in the glass, he has been a most exemplary attendant at church these last few Sundays. You would think he was quite a good Christian. And you may go with us, Miss Gray. I want you to see him. He is so greatly improved since he returned from abroad. You can't think. And besides, then you will have an opportunity of seeing the beautiful Mr. Weston again, and of hearing him preach. I did hear him preach, and was decidedly pleased with the evangelical truth of his doctrine, as well as the earnest simplicity of his manner and the clearness and force of his style. It was truly refreshing to hear such a sermon after being so long accustomed to the dry, prosy discourses of the former curate and the stillest edifying hurrings of the rector. Mr. Hatfield would come sailing up the aisle or rather sweeping along like a whirlwind with his rich silk gown flying behind him and wrestling against the pew doors, mount the pulpit like a conqueror ascending his triumphal car. Then, sinking on the velvet cushion in an attitude of studied grace, remain in silent prostration for a certain time, then mutter over a collect and gabble through the Lord's prayer, rise, draw off one bright lavender glove to give the congregation the benefit of his sparkling rings. Lightly pass his fingers through his well-curled hair, flourish a camber-cane kerchief, recite a very short passage or perhaps a mere phrase of Scripture as a headpiece to his discourse, and finally deliver a composition which, as a composition might be considered good, though far too studied and too artificial to be pleasing to me. The propositions were well laid down, the arguments logically conducted, and yet it was sometimes hard to listen quietly throughout, without some slight demonstrations of disapproval or impatience. His favorite subjects were church discipline, rites and ceremonies, apostolical succession, the duty of reverence and obedience to the clergy, the atrocious criminality of dissent, the absolute necessity of observing all the forms of godliness, the reprehensible presumption of individuals who attempted to think for themselves in matters connected with religion or to be guided by their own interpretations of Scripture, and occasionally, to please his wealthy parishioners, the necessity of deferential obedience from the poor to the rich, supporting his maxims and exhortations throughout with quotations from the fathers, with whom he appeared to be far better acquainted than with the apostles and evangelists and whose importance he seemed to consider at least equal to theirs. But now and then he gave us a sermon of a different order, what some would call a very good one, but sunless and severe, representing the deity as a terrible taskmaster rather than a benevolent father. Yet, as I listened, I felt inclined to think the man was sincere in all he said. He must have changed his views and become decidedly religious, gloomy and austere, yet still devout. But such illusions were usually dissipated on coming out of church by hearing his voice in joking colloquy with some of the melthums or greens, or perhaps the Marais themselves, probably laughing at his own sermon and hoping that he had given the rascally people something to think about. Perchance, exulting in the thought that old Betty Holmes would now lay aside the sinful indulgence of her pipe, which had been her daily solace for upwards of thirty years, that George Higgins would be frightened out of his Sabbath evening walks, and Thomas Jackson would be sorely troubled in his conscience, and shaken in his sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection at the last day. Thus I could not but conclude that Mr. Hatfield was one of those who bind heavy burdens and grievous to be born and lay them upon men's shoulders while they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers, and who make the word of God to the magicians, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. I was well pleased to observe that the new curate resembled him as far as I could see in none of these particulars. Well, Miss Gray, what do you think of him now? said Miss Marais, 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 No worse, I should think not indeed, quite the contrary. Is he not greatly improved? Oh, yes, very much indeed, replied I. For I had now discovered that it was Harry Meltham she meant, not Mr. Weston. That young gentleman had eagerly come forward to speak to the young ladies, a thing he would hardly have ventured to do had their mother been present. He had likewise politely handed them into the carriage. He had not attempted to shut me out after Hatfield. Neither, of course, had he offered me his assistance. I should not have accepted it if he had. But as long as the door remained open he had stood smirking and chatting with them, and then lifted his hat and departed to his own abode. But I had scarcely noticed him all the time. My companions, however, had been more observant. And as we rolled along they discussed between them not only his looks, words, and actions, but every feature of his face and his apparel. You shan't have him all to yourself, Rosalie, said Miss Matilda at the close of this discussion. I like him. I know he'd make a nice, jolly companion for me. Well, you're quite welcome to him, Matilda, replied her sister, in a tone of affected indifference. And I'm sure, continued the other, he admires me quite as much as he does you. Doesn't he, Miss Gray? I don't know. I'm not acquainted with his sentiments. Well, but he does, though. My dear Matilda, nobody will ever admire you till you get rid of your rough, awkward manners. Oh, stuff! Harry Melfam likes such manners and so do Papa's friends. Well, you may captivate old men and younger sons, but nobody else I am sure will ever take a fancy to you. I don't care. I'm not always grabbing after money like you and Mama. If my husband is able to keep a few good horses and dogs, I shall be quite satisfied and all the rest may go to hell. Well, if you use such shocking expressions, I'm sure no real gentleman will ever venture to come near you. Really, Miss Gray, you should not let her do so. I can't possibly prevent it, Miss Moray. And you're quite mistaken, Matilda, in supposing that Harry Melfam admires you. I'm sure he does nothing of the kind. Matilda was beginning an angry reply, but happily her journey was now at an end, and the contention was cut short by the footmen opening the carriage door and letting down the steps for our descent. CHAPTER XI The Cottagers As I had now only one regular pupil, though she contrived to give me as much trouble as three or four ordinary ones, and though her sister still took lessons in German and drawing, I had considerably more time at my own disposal than I had ever been blessed with before since I had taken upon me the governess's yoke, which time I devoted partly to correspondence with my friends, partly to reading, studying, and the practice of music, singing, etc., with my pupils if they wanted me, alone if they did not. Often, when they had no more agreeable occupation at hand, the Mrs. Murray would amuse themselves with visiting the poor cottagers on their father's estate to receive their flattering homage or to hear the old stories and gossiping news of the girlest old woman, or perhaps to enjoy the pure pleasure of making the poor people happy with their cheering presents and their occasional gifts so easily bestowed, so thankfully received. Sometimes I was called upon to accompany one or both of the sisters in these visits, and sometimes I was desired to go alone to fulfill some promise which they had been more ready to make than to perform, to carry some small donation or to read to one who was sick or seriously disposed, and thus I made a few acquaintances among the cottagers, and occasionally I went to see them on my own account. I generally had more satisfaction in going alone than with either of the young ladies, for they, chiefly owing to their defective education, comported themselves towards their infirers in a manner that was highly disagreeable for me to witness. They never, in thought, exchanged places with them, and consequently had no consideration for their feelings, regarding them as an order of being entirely different from themselves. They would watch the poor creatures at their meals, making uncivil remarks about their food and their manner of eating. They would laugh at their simple notions and provincial expressions till some of them scarcely dress venture to speak. They would call the grave elderly men and women old fools and all those without meaning to offend. I could see that the people were often hurt and annoyed by such conduct, though their fear of the grandlady's prevented them from testifying any resentment, but they never perceived it. They thought that, as these cottagers were porn-untaught, they must be stupid and brutish, and as long as they, their superiors, condescended to talk to them and to give them shillings and half-crowns or articles of clothing, they had a right to amuse themselves, even at their expense, and ascended to minister to their necessities and enlightened their humble dwellings. I made many in various attempts to deliver my pupils from these delusive notions without alarming their pride, which was easily offended and not soon appeased but with little apparent results, and I know not which was the more reprehensible of the two. Matilda was more rude and boisterous, but from Rosalie's womanly age and ladylike exterior better things were expected, yet she was as provokingly careless and inconsiderate as a giddy child of twelve. One bright day in the last week of February I was walking in the park enjoying the three-fold luxury of solitude, a book, and pleasant weather, for Miss Matilda had set out on her daily ride and Miss Murray was gone in the carriage with her mama to pay some morning calls. But it struck me that I ought to leave these selfish pleasures, and the park with its glorious canopy of bright blue sky, the west wind sounding through its yet leafless branches, the snow-rees still lingering in its hollows but melting fast beneath the sun, and the graceful deer browsing on its moist herbage already assuming the freshness and verdict of spring, and go to the cottage of one Nancy Brown, a widow whose son was at work all day in the fields and who was afflicted with an inflammation in the eyes, which had for some time incapacitated her from breeding to her own great grief, for she was a woman of a serious thoughtful turn of mind. I accordingly went and found her alone, as usual, in her little, close, dark cottage redolent of smoke and confined air, but as tidy and clean as she could make it. She was seated beside her little fire, consisting of a few red cinders and a bit of stick, busily knitting with a small sack-cloth cushion at her feet, placed for the accommodation of her gentle friend the cat who was seated thereon, with her long tail half encircling her velvet paws and her half-closed eyes dreamling gazing on the low, crooked fender. Well, Nancy, how are you today? Well, I'm in thing, Miss Amacel. My eyes is no better, but I'm a deal easier in my mind, or have I been? replied she, rising to welcome me with a contented smile, which I was glad to see, for Nancy had been somewhat afflicted with religious melancholy. I congratulated her upon the change. She agreed that it was a great blessing and expressed herself right down thankful for it, adding, With expressions of grateful pleasure, the poor woman moved to get me a chair, but, as I saved her the trouble, she busied herself with stirring the fire and adding a few more sticks to the decaying embers, and then, taking her well-used Bible from the shelf, dusted it carefully and gave it to me. On my asking if there was any particular part she should like me to read, she answered, Well, Miss Gray, if it's all the same to you, I should like to hear that chapter in the first epistle of Saint John that says, God is love, and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. With a little searching I found these words in the fourth chapter. When I came to the seventh verse she interrupted me, and, with needless apologies for such a liberty, desired me to read it very slowly that she might take it all in and dwell on every word, hoping I would excuse her as she was but a simple body. The wisest person, I replied, might think over each of these verses for an hour and be all the better for it, and I would rather read them slowly than not. Accordingly I finished the chapter as slowly as need be, and at the same time as impressively as I could. My auditor listened most attentively all the while and sincerely thanked me when I had done. I sat still about half a minute to give her time to reflect upon it, when, somewhat to my surprise, she broke the pause by asking me how I liked Mr. Weston. I don't know, I replied, startled by the suddenness of the question. I think he preaches very well. Aye, 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 anyone to talk to, except the young ladies of the hall. Ah, they're nice, kind young ladies, but they can't talk as he does. Then he comes to see you, Nancy. He does, Miss, and I thank before it. He comes to see all us poor bodies a dill oftener nor master-bar or the rector ever did, and it's well he does, for he's always welcome. We can't say as much for the rector. There is that, says their fared fear on him. When he comes into a house, they say he's sure to find somewhat wrong and begin calling him as soon as he crosses the door-stones. But maybe he thinks it's his duty like to tell him what's wrong. And very often comes a purpose to reprove folk for not coming to church or not kneeling and standing when other folk does or going to the Methody Chapel or something of that sort. When I was so ill troubled in my mind, and as I had only very poor health besides, I made bold descent for him. And he came right enough. I was sore distressed, Miss Gray. Thank God it's over now. But when I took my Bible I could get no comfort of it at all. That very chapter that you've just been reading troubled me as much as ought. He that love is not, knoweth not God. It seemed fearsome to me, for I felt that I neither loved God nor man as I should do would not if I tried ever so. And the chapter 4 where it says he that is born of God cannot commit sin. And another place where it says love is the fulfilling of the law and many many others, Miss, I should fair wear you out if I was to tell them all. But it all seemed to condemn me and to show me that I was not in the right way. And as I knew not how to get into it I send our bell to bagmaster Hatfield to be as kind as to look in on me some day and when he came I tell them all my troubles. And what did he say, Nancy? Why, Miss, he seemed to scorn me. I might be misdane, but he like gave a sort of whistle and I saw a bit of a smile on his face and he said oh, it's all stuff. You've been among the Methodists, my good woman. But I tell them I've never been near the Methodists. And then he said, well, says he, he must come to church where you'll hear the scriptures properly explained instead of sitting pouring over your Bible at home. But I tell him I always used coming to my help. But this very cold winter weather I hardly dress ventures so far and me so bad with the rheumatic and all. But he says, it'll do your rheumatism good to help to church. There's nothing like exercise for the rheumatism. You can walk about the house well enough why can't you walk to church? The fact is, says he, you're getting too fond of your ease. It's always easy to find excuses for shirking one's duty. But then you know, Miss Gray it wasn't so, however I tell them I'd try. But please, the Church says I, if I do go to church what the better shall I be? I want to have my sins blotted out and to feel that they are remembered no more against me and that the love of God is shed abroad in my heart. And if I can get no good by reading my Bible and saying my prayers at home what good shall I get by going to church? The Church says he is the place appointed by God for his worship. It's your duty to go there as often as you can. If you want comfort you must seek it in the path of duty. And a deal more he said, but I cannot read all his fine words. However, it all came to this, that I was come to church as often as ever I could and bring my prayer book with me and read up all the sponsors after the clerk and stand and kneel and sit and do all as I should and take the Lord's supper at every opportunity and hearken his sermons and I must oblige and it all 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. I don't think I'm a reprobate. Why? says he. He says, if you do your best to get to heaven and can't manage it you must be one of those that seek to enter in at the straight gate until not be able. And then he asked me if I'd seen any of the ladies of the hall about that morning so I told him where I'd seen the young Mrs. Go on the moss lane and he kicked my poor cat right across the floor and went after him as gay as a lark but I was very sad. That last word of his fare and lay there like a lump of lead till I was weary to bear it. However, I followed his advice I thought he meant it all for the best though he had a queer way with him but you know, Miss, he's rich and young and such like cannot right understand the thoughts of a poor old woman such as me but, however, I did my best to do all as he bade me but maybe I'm plaguing you, Miss, with my chatter. Oh no Nancy go on and tell me all. Well, my rumours has got better I know not whether we're going to church or not but one frosty Sunday I got this cold in my eyes the information didn't come on all at once like but bit by bit but I wasn't going to tell you about my eyes I was talking about my troubled mind and just tell the truth, Miss Gray I don't think it was anyways eased by coming to church not to speak on at least I like got my health better but that didn't mend my soul I harkened and harkened the ministers and read and read at my prayer book with a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal the sermons I couldn't understand and the prayer book only served to show me how wicked I was then I could read such good words and never be no better for it and often feel it a sore labour and a heavy task beside instead of a blessing and a privilege as all good Christians does it seemed like as all were barren and dark to me and then, them dreadful words many shall seek to enter in and shall not be able but one Sunday when Master Hatfield gave out about the sacrament I noticed where he said if there be any of you that cannot quite his own conscience but require further comfort or counsel let him come to me or some other discreet and learned administer of God's word and open his grief so next Sunday morning a forced service I just looked into the vestry and began to talk into the rector again I hardly could fashion to take such liberty but I thought when my soul was at stake I shouldn't stick at a trifle he said he had time to attend to me then and indeed says he I've nothing to say to you but what I've said before take the sacrament of course and go on doing your duty and if that won't serve you nothing will so don't bother me any more so then I went away but I heard Master Weston Master Weston was there Miss this was his first Sunday at Horton you know and he was in the vestry in a surplus helping the rector on with his gown yes Nancy the rector had feel who I was and he said oh she's a canting old fool and I was very ill-greed Miss Gray but I went to my seat and I tried to do my duty as a foretime but I like got no peace and I even took the sacrament but I felt as though I were eating and drinking to my own damnation all the time so I went home sorely troubled but next day before I'd gotten fettled up for indeed miss I know hard to sweep in and fettling and washing pots and down on the lock who should come in but Master Weston I started sighting stuff then and sweep and undoing and I expected he'd begin calling me for my out of ways as Master Hatfield would have done but I was misdane he only bid me good morning like in a quiet, decent way so I dusted him a chair and fettled up the fireplace a bit but I hadn't forgotten the rector's words so says I I wonder sir you should give yourself that trouble back at that but he would feign persuade me that the rector was only ingest and when that wouldn't do he says well Nancy you shouldn't think so much about it Mr. Hatfield was a little out of humor just then you know we're none of us perfect even Moses spoken invisibly with his lips but now sit down a minute if you can spare the time and tell me all your doubts and fears and I'll try to remove them so I sat me down and net him he was quite a stranger you know Miss Gray and even younger nor Master Hatfield I believe and I had thought him not so pleasant looking as him and rather bit crossish at first to look at but he spake so civil like and when the cat poor thing jumped on to his knee he only stroked her and gave a bit of a smile so I thought that was a good sign for once when she did so to the rector he knocked her off as like it might be and scorned an anger poor thing but you can't expect a cat to know manners like a Christian you know Miss Gray now of course not Nancy but what did Mr. Weston say then he said not but he listened to me as steady and patient as could be and never bit a scorn about him so I went on and told him all just as I've told you and more too well says he Mr. Hatfield was quite right in telling you to persevere and doing your duty but in advising you to go to church and attend to the service and so on he didn't mean that was the whole of a Christian's duty he only thought you might there learn what more was to be done and be led to take delight in those exercises instead of finding them a task and a burden and if you had asked him to explain those words that trouble you so much I think he would have told you that if many shall seek to enter in at the straight gate and shall not be able it is their own sins that hinder them just as a man with a large sack on his back might wish to pass through a narrow doorway and find it impossible to do so unless he would leave his sack behind him but you Nancy I dare say have no sins that you would not gladly throw aside if you knew how indeed sir you speak truth said I well says he you know the first and greatest commandment and the second which is like onto it on which two commandments hang all the law on the prophets you say you cannot love God but it strikes me that if you rightly consider who and what he is you cannot help it he is your father your best friend every blessing everything good pleasant or useful comes from him and everything evil everything you have reason to hate to shun or to fear comes from Satan his enemy as well as ours and for this cause was God manifest in the flesh that he might destroy the works of the devil in one word God is love and the more of love we have within us the nearer we are to him and the more of his spirit we possess well sir I said if I can always think on these things I think I might well love God but how can I love my neighbors when they vex me and be so contrary what an awful assommlement is it may seem a hard matter says he to love our neighbors who have so much of what is evil about them and his faults so often awaken the evil that lingers within ourselves but remember that he made them and he loves them and whosoever loveth him that begat loveth him that is begotten also and if God so loveth us that he gave his only begotten son to die for us we also to love one another but if you cannot feel positive affection for those who do not care for you you can at least try to do to them as you would they should do unto you you can endeavor to pity their failings and excuse their offenses and to do all the good you can to those about you and if you accustom yourself to this Nancy the very effort itself will make you love them in some degree to say nothing of the good will your kindness would be getten them though they might have little else that is good about them if we love God and wish to serve him let us try to be like him and do his work to labor for his glory which is the good of man to hasten the coming of his kingdom which is the peace and happiness of all the world however powerless we may seem to be in doing all the good we can through life the humblest of us may do much towards it and let us dwell in love that he may dwell on us and we in him the more happiness we bestow the more we shall receive even here and the greater will be our reward in heaven when we rest from our labors I believe miss them is his very words for I've thought them over many a time and then you dig that bible and read bits here and there and explain them as clear as the day and it seemed like as a new light broke in on my soul and I felt fair glow about my heart and only wish poor Bill and all the world could have been there and heard it all and rejoiced with me after he was gone Hannah Rogers one of the neighbors came in and wanted me to help her to wash I told her I couldn't just then for I hadn't set on the potatoes for the dinner nor washed up the breakfast stuff yet so then she began to calling me for my nasty idle ways I was a little bit vexed at first but I never said nothing wrong to her I only tell her like all in a quiet way and I'd had the new person to see me but I'd get down as quick as ever I could and then come and help her so then she softened down and my heart like as it warmed towards her and in a bit we was very good friends and so it is miss Gray a soft answer turned it the way wrath but grievous words stir up anger it isn't only in them you speak to but in yourself very true Nancy if we could always remember it aye if we could and did Mr. Western ever come to see you again yes many a time and since my eyes has been so bad he's sat and read to me by the half hour together but you know miss he has other folks to see and other things to do God bless him and that next Sunday he preached such a sermon his text was come on to me I'll eat that labour and I will give you rest and them two blessed verses that follows you wasn't there miss you was with your friends then but it made me so happy and I am happy now thank God and I take a pleasure now and doing little bits of jobs for my neighbors such as the poor old body that's half blind can do and they take it kindly of me just as he said you see miss I'm knitting a pair of stockings now they're for Thomas Jackson he's a queerish old body and we've had many about at threepin one and at the other and at times we've differed sorely so I thought I couldn't do no better nor knit him a pair of warm stockings and I felt so like him a deal better poor old man since I began it's turned out just as Master Weston said well I'm very glad to see you so happy Nancy and so wise but I must go now I shall be wanted at the hall said I and bidding her goodbye I departed promising to come again when I had time and feeling nearly as happy as herself and another time I went to read to a poor laborer who was in the last stage of consumption the young ladies had been to see him and somehow a promise of reading had been extracted from them but it was too much trouble so they begged me to do it instead I went willingly enough and there too I was gratified with the praises of Mr. Weston both from the sick man and his wife the former told me that he derived great comfort and benefit from the visits of new person who frequently came to see him and was another guest sort of man to Mr. Hatfield who before the others arrival at Horton had now and then paid him a visit on which occasions he would always insist upon having the cottage door kept open to administer the fresh air for his own convenience without considering how it might injure the sufferer and having opened his prayer book and hastily read over a part of the service for the sick would hurry away again if he did not stay to administer some harsh rebuke to the afflicted wife not to say heartless observation rather calculated to increase than diminish the troubles of the suffering pair whereas said the man Mr. Weston will pray with me quite in a different fashion and talk to me as kind as ought and off read to me too and sit beside me just like a brother just for all the world exclaimed his wife and about three weeks in when he see'd how poor Jim Shiverbrook cold and what pitiful fires he kept he asked if his stock of coals was nearly done he told him it was and we was ill set to get more but you know mom I didn't think of him helping us but however he sent us a sack of coals next day and we've had good fires ever seen and a great blessing it is this wintertime but that's his way Miss Gray when he comes into a poor body's house is seeing sick folk he like notices what they must stand a need on and if he thinks they can't readily get it then ourselves he never says not about it but just gets it for him and it isn't everybody had to do that he says for you know mom he's not at all to live on but what he gets from the rector and that's little enough they say I remembered then with the species of exaltation that he had been frequently styled a vulgar brute by the amiable Miss Murray because he wore a silver watch and clothes not quite so bright and fresh as Mr. Hatfield's in returning to the lodge I felt very happy and thanked God that I now had something to think about something to dwell on as a relief from the weary monotony the lonely drudgery of my present life for I was lonely never from month to month from year to year except during my brief intervals of rest at home did I see one creature to whom I can open my heart or freely speak my thoughts with any hope of sympathy or even comprehension never one unless it were poor Nancy Brown with whom I can enjoy a single moment of real social intercourse or whose conversation was calculated to render me better, wiser or happier than before or who as far as I could see could be greatly benefited by mine my only companions had been unameable children and ignorant wrong-headed girls from whose fatiguing folly unbroken solitude was often a relief most earnestly desired and dearly prized but to be restricted to such associates was a serious evil both in its immediate effects and the consequences that were likely to ensue never a new idea or stirring thought came to me from without and such as rose within me were for the most part miserably crushed at once or doomed to sicken or fade away because they could not see the light habitual associates are known to exercise a great influence over each other's minds and manners those whose actions are forever before our eyes whose words are ever in our ears will naturally lead us albeit against our will slowly, gradually, imperceptibly perhaps to act and speak as they do I will not presume to say how far this irresistible power of assimilation extends but if one civilized man were doomed to pass a dozen years amid a race of interactable savages unless he had power to improve them I greatly question whether at the close of that period he would not have become at least a barbarian himself and I as I could not make my young companions better feared exceedingly that they would make me worse would gradually bring my feelings, habits capacities to the level of their own without however imparting to me their light-heartedness and cheerful vivacity already I seem to feel my intellect deteriorating my heart petrifying my soul contracting and I trembled lest my very moral perception should become deadened my distinctions of right and wrong confounded and all my better faculties be sunk at last beneath the baneful influence of such a mode of life the gross vapors of earth were gathering around me enclosing in upon my inward heaven and thus it was that Mr. Weston rose at length upon me appearing like the morning star in my horizon to save me from the fear of utter darkness and I rejoiced that I had now a subject for contemplation that was above me, not beneath I was glad to see that all the world was not made up of bloom fields meres, hat fields, ash beads, etc and that human excellence was not a mere dream of the imagination when we hear a little good and no harm of the person it is easy and pleasant to imagine more in short it is needless to analyze all my thoughts but Sunday was now become a day of peculiar delight to me I was now almost broken into the back corner of the carriage for I like to hear him and I liked to see him too though I knew he was not handsome or even what is called agreeable in outward aspect but certainly he was not ugly in stature he was a little a very little above the middle size the outline of his face would be pronounced too square for beauty but to me it announced decision of character his dark hair was not carefully curled like Mr. Hatfield's but simply brushed aside over a broad white forehead the eyebrows I suppose were too projecting but from under those dark brows there gleamed an eye of singular power brown in color not large and somewhat deep set but strikingly brilliant and full of expression there was character too in the mouth something that bespoke a man of firm purpose and a habitual thinker and when he smiled but I will not speak of that yet for at the time I mentioned I had never seen him smile and indeed his general appearance did not impress me with the idea of a man given to such a relaxation nor of such an individual as the cottagers described him I had early formed my opinion of him and in spite of Miss Murray's objugations was fully convinced that he was a man of strong sense firm faith and ardent piety but thoughtful and stern and when I found that to his other good qualities was added that of true benevolence and gentle considerate kindness the discovery perhaps delighted me the more as I had not been prepared to expect it. CHAPTER XII. THE SHOWER The next visit I paid to Nancy Brown was in the second week in March for though I had many spare minutes during the day I seldom could look upon an hour as entirely my own since where everything was left to the caprices of Miss Matilda and her sister there could be no order or regularity whatever occupation I chose were not actually busy about them or their concerns I had as it were to keep my loins girded, my shoes on my feet and my staff in my hand for not to be immediately forthcoming when called for was regarded as a grave and inexcusable offence not only by my pupils and their mother but by the very servant who came in breathless exclaiming you're to go to the school room directly mum the young ladies is waiting climax of horror actually waiting for their governess but this time I was pretty sure of an hour or two to myself for Matilda was preparing for a long ride and Rosalie was dressing for a dinner party at Lady Ashby's so I took the opportunity of repairing to the widow's cottage where I found her in some anxiety about her cat which had been absent all day I comforted her with as many anecdotes of that animals raving propensities to recollect I'm feared of the gamekeepers said she that's all I think on if the young gentleman had been at home I should have thought they'd been setting their dogs at her and worried her poor thing as they did many a poor things cat but I haven't that to be feared on now Nancy's eyes were better but still far from well she had been trying to make a Sunday shirt for her son but told me she could only bear to do a little bit at it now and then so that it progressed but slowly though the poor lad wanted it sadly so I proposed to help her a little after I had read to her for I had plenty of time that evening and need not return till dusk she thankfully accepted the offer and you'll be a bit of company for me too miss said she I like as I feel lonesome without my cat but when I had finished reading and done the half of a seam with Nancy's capaceous brass thimble fitted onto my finger by means of a roll of paper I was disturbed by the entrance of Mr. Western with the identical cat in his arms I now saw that he could smile and very pleasantly too I've done you a piece of good service Nancy he began then seeing me he acknowledged my presence by a slight bow I should have been invisible to Hatfield or any other gentleman of those parts I've delivered your cat he continued from the hands or rather the gun of Mr. Murray's Gamekeeper God bless you sir cried the grateful old woman ready to weep for joy as she received her favorite from his arms take care of it said he and don't let it go near the rabbit warrant for the Gamekeeper swears he'll shoot it if he sees it there again today if I had not been in time to stop him I believe it is raining Miss Gray at a team or quietly observing that I had put aside my work and was preparing to depart don't let me disturb you I shan't stay two minutes you'll both stay while this shower gets oh it said Nancy as she stirred the fire and placed another chair beside it what there's room for all I can see better here thank you Nancy replied I taking my work to the window where she had the goodness to suffer me to remain unmolested while she got a brush to the hairs from Mr. Western's coat carefully wiped the rain from his hat and gave the cat its supper busily taking all the time now thanking her clerical friend for what he had done now wondering how the cat had found out the Warren and now lamenting the probable consequences of such a discovery he listened with a quiet good-natured smile and at length took a seat in compliance with her pressing invitations but repeated that he did not mean to stay I have another place to go said he and I see glancing at the book someone else has been reading to you yes sir miss gray has been as kind as read me a chapter and now she's helping me with a shirt for our bill but I'm feared she'll be cold there won't you come to the fire miss no thank you Nancy I'm quite warm I must go as soon as this shower is over oh miss you said you could stop while dusk cried the provoking old woman and Mr. Western seized his hat nay sir exclaimed she pray don't go now while it rains so fast but it strikes me I'm keeping your visitor away from the fire not Mr. Western replied I hoping there was no harm in a falsehood of that description no sure cried Nancy what there's lots of room miss gray said he half jestingly as if he felt it necessary to change the present subject whether he had anything particular to say or not I wish you would make my peace with the square when you see him he was by when I rescued Nancy's cat and did not quite approve of the deed I told him I thought he might better spare all his rabbits than she her cat for which audacious assertion he treated me to mentally language and I fear I retorted a trifle too warmly oh lawful sir I hope you didn't fall out with the master for sake of my cat you cannot buy it answering again can the master oh it's no matter Nancy I don't care about it really I said nothing very uncivil and I suppose Mr. Murray is accustomed to use rather strong language when he's heated I sir it's a pity and now I really must go I have to visit a place a mile beyond this and you would not have me to return in the dark besides it has nearly done raining now so good evening Nancy good evening Miss Gray good evening Mr. Weston but don't depend upon me for making your peace with Mr. Murray for I never see him to speak to don't you it can't be helped then replied he in Dolores resignation then with a peculiar half smile he added but never mind I imagine the square has more to apologize for than I and he left the cottage I went on with my sewing as long as I could see and then bade Nancy good evening checking her too lively gratitude by the undeniable assurance that I had only done for her what she would have done for me if she had been in my place and I in hers I hastened back to Horton Lodge where having entered the school room I found the tea table all in confusion the tray flooded with slobs and Miss Matilda in a most ferocious humor Miss Gray whatever have you been about I've had tea half an hour ago and had to make it myself and drink it all alone I wish you would come in sooner I've been to see Nancy Brown I thought you would not be back from your ride could I ride in the rain I should like to know that damned pelting shower was vexatious enough coming on when I was just in full swing and then to come and find nobody into tea and you know I can't make the tea as I like it I didn't think of the shower replied I and indeed the thought of its driving her home had never entered my head no of course you were under shelter yourself and you never thought of other people I bore her course reproaches with astonishing equanimity even with cheerfulness for I was sensible that I had done more good to Nancy Brown harm to her and perhaps some other thoughts assisted to keep up my spirits and in part a relish to the cup of cold overdrawn tea and a charm to the otherwise unsightly table and I had almost said to Miss Matilda's unamiable face but she soon retook herself to the stables and left me to the quiet enjoyment of my solitary meal End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of Agnes Gray This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Christine Blashwood Agnes Gray by Anne Bronte Chapter 13 The Prim-Roses Miss Murray now always went twice to church for she so loved admiration that she could not bear to lose a single opportunity of obtaining it and she was so sure of it wherever she showed herself that whether Harry Maltham and Mr. Green were there or not there was certain to be somebody present who would not be insensible to her charms besides the writer whose official capacity generally obliged him to attend. Usually also if the weather permitted both she and her sister would walk home Matilda because she hated the confinement of the carriage, she because she disliked the privacy of it and enjoyed the company that generally enlivened the first mile of the journey in walking from the church to Mr. Green's Park Gates near which commenced the private road to Horton Lodge which lay in the opposite direction while the highway conducted in a straightforward course to the mansion of Sir Hugh Maltham. Thus there was always a chance of being accompanied so far either by Harry Maltham with or without Miss Maltham or Mr. Green with perhaps one or both of his sisters and any gentlemen visitors they might have. Whether I walked with the young ladies or rode with their parents depended upon their own capricious will. If they chose to take me I went, if for reasons best known to themselves they chose to go alone I took my seat in the carriage. I liked walking better but a sense of peace to obtrude my presence on anyone who did not desire it always kept me passive on these and similar occasions and they never inquired into the causes of their varying whims. Indeed this was the best policy for to submit and oblige was the governess's part to consult their own pleasure was that of the pupils. But when I did walk the first half of journey was generally a great nuisance to me as none of the before mentioned ladies and gentlemen ever noticed me it was disagreeable to walk beside them as if listening to what they said wishing to be thought one of them while they talked over me or across and if their eyes in speaking chance to fall on me it seemed as if they looked on vacancy as if they either did not see me or were very desirous to make it appear so. It was disagreeable to to walk behind and thus appear to acknowledge my own inferiority for in truth I considered myself pretty nearly as good as the best of them and wish them to know that I did so and not to imagine that I looked upon myself as a mere domestic who knew her own place too well to walk beside such fine ladies and gentlemen as they were though her young ladies might choose to have her with them and even condescend to converse with her when no better company were at hand thus I am almost ashamed to confess it but indeed I gave myself no little trouble in my endeavours if I did keep up with them to appear perfectly unconscious or regardless of their presence as if I were wholly absorbed in my own reflections or the contemplation of surrounding objects or if I lingered behind it was some bird or insect some tree or flower that attracted my attention and having duly examined that I would pursue my walk alone at a leisurely pace until my pupils had bidden adieu to their companions and turned off into the quiet private road one such occasion I particularly well remember it was a lovely afternoon about the close of March Mr. Green and his sisters had sent their carriage back empty in order to enjoy the bright sunshine and barmy air in a sociable walk home along with their visitors captain somebody and left tenant somebody else a couple of military and the mrs. Murray who of course contrived to join them such a party was highly agreeable to Rosalie but not finding it equally suitable to my taste I presently fell back and began to botanise and entomologise along the green banks and budding hedges till the company was considerably in advance of me and I could hear the sweet song of the happy lark then my spirit of misanthropy began to melt away beneath the soft pure air and genial sunshine but sad thoughts of early childhood and yearnings for departed joys or for a brighter future lot arose instead as my eyes wondered over the steep banks covered with young grass and greenleaved plants and surmounted by budding hedges I longed intensely for some familiar flower that might recall the woody dales or green hillsides of home the brown moorlands of course were out of the question such a discovery would make my eyes gush out with water no doubt but that was one of my greatest enjoyments now at length I described up between the twisted roots of an oak three lovely primroses peeping so sweetly from their hiding place that the tears already started at the site but they grew so high above me that I tried in vain to gather one or two to dream over and to carry with me I could not reach them unless I climbed the bank which I was deterred from doing by hearing a footstep at that moment behind me and was therefore about to turn away when I was startled by the words allow me to gather them for you Miss Gray spoken in the grave low tones of a known voice immediately the flowers were gathered and in my hand it was Mr. Weston of course who else would trouble himself to do so much for me I thanked him whether warmly or coldly I cannot tell but certain I am that I did not express half the gratitude I felt it was foolish perhaps to feel any gratitude at all but it seemed to me at that moment as if this were a remarkable instance of his good nature an act of kindness which I could not repay but never should forget so utterly unaccustomed was I to believe such civilities so little prepared to expect them from anyone within fifty miles of Horton Lodge yet this did not prevent me from feeling a little uncomfortable in his presence and I proceeded to follow my pupils at a much quicker pace than before though perhaps if Mr. Weston had taken the hint and let me pass without another word I might have repeated it an hour after but he did not a somewhat rapid walk for me was but an ordinary pace for him your young ladies have left you alone said he yes they are occupied agreeable company then don't trouble yourself to overtake them I slackened my pace but next moment regretted having done so my companion did not speak and I had nothing in the world to say and feared he might be in the same predicament at length however he broke the pause by asking with a certain quiet abruptness peculiar to himself if I liked flowers yes very much I answered wild flowers especially I like wild flowers said he others I don't care about because I have no particular associations connected with them except one or two what are your favorite flowers primrose's blue bells and heath blossoms not violets no because as you say I have no particular associations connected with them for there are no sweet violets among the hills and valleys around my home it must be a great consolation to you to have a home miss gray observed my companion after a short pause however remote or however seldom visited still it is something to look to you it is so much that I think I could not live without it replied I with an enthusiasm of which I immediately repented for I thought it must have sounded essentially silly oh yes you could said he with a thoughtful smile the ties that bind us to life are tougher than you imagine or than anyone can who has not felt how roughly they may be pulled without breaking you might be miserable without a home but even you could live and not so miserably as you suppose the human heart is like India rubber a little swells it but a great deal will not burst it if little more than nothing will disturb it little less than all things will suffice to break it as in the outer members of our frame there is a vital power inherent in itself that strengthens it against external violence every blow that shakes it will serve to harden it against a future stroke as constant labor thickens the skin of the hand and strengthens its muscles instead of wasting them away so that a day of arduous toil that might excoriate a lady's palm would make no sensible impression on that of a hardy plowman I speak from experience partly of my own there was a time when I thought as you do at least I was fully persuaded that home and its affections were the only things that made life tolerable that if deprived of these existence would become a burden hard to be endured but now I have no home unless you would dignify my two hired rooms at Horton by such a name and not twelve months ago I lost the last and dearest of my early friends and yet not only I live but I am not wholly destitute of hope and comfort even for this life though I must acknowledge that I can enter even a humble cottage at the close of day and see its inhabitants peacefully gathered around their cheerful hearth without a feeling almost of envy at their domestic enjoyment you don't know what happiness lies before you yet said I you are now only in the commencement of your journey the best of happiness replied he is mine already the power and the will to be useful we now approach the style communicating with a footpath that conducted to a farmhouse where I suppose Mr. Weston purpose to make himself useful for he presently took leave of me cross the style and traverse the path with his usual firm elastic tread leaving me to ponder his words as I continued my course alone I had heard before that he had lost his mother not many months before he came she then was the last and dearest of his early friends and he had no home I pitied him from my heart I almost wept for sympathy and this I thought accounted for the shade of premature thoughtfulness that so frequently clouded his brow and obtained for him the morose and sullen disposition with a charitable Miss Murray and all her kin but thought I he is not so miserable as I should be under such a deprivation he leads an active life and a wide field for useful exertion lies before him he can make friends and he can make a home too if he pleases and doubtless he will please some time God grant the partner of that home may be worthy of his choice and make it a happy one such a home as he deserves to have and how delightful it would be to but no matter what I thought I began this book with the intention of concealing nothing that those who liked might have the benefit of perusing a fellow creature's heart but we have some thoughts that all the angels in heaven are welcome to behold but not our brother men not even the best and kindest among them by this time the Greens had taken themselves to their own abode and the Murrays had turned down the private road wither I hastened to follow them I found the two girls warm in an animated discussion on the respective merits of the two young officers but on seeing me I broke off in the middle of a sentence to exclaim with malicious glee oh oh Miss Gray you'll come at last are you no wonder you lingered so long behind and no wonder you always stand up so vigorously for Mr. Weston when I abuse him ah ha I see it all now now come Miss Murray don't be foolish said I attempting a good natured laugh you know such nonsense can make no impression on me but she still went on talking such intolerable stuff her sister helping her with appropriate fiction coined for the occasion that I thought it necessary to say something in my own justification what folly all this is I exclaimed if Mr. Weston's road happened to be the same as mine for a few yards and if he chose to exchange a word or two in passing what is there so remarkable in that I assure you I never spoke to him before except once where where and when cried they eagerly in Nancy's cottage ah ha you've met him there have you exclaimed Rosalie with exultant laughter ah now Matilda I found out why she's so fond of going to Nancy Brown's there to flirt with Mr. Weston really that is not worth contradicting I only saw him there once I tell you and how could I know he was coming irritated as I was at their foolish mirth and vexatious imputations the uneasiness did not continue long when they had had their laugh out they returned again to the captain and lieutenant and while they disputed and commented upon them my indignation rapidly called the cause of it was quickly forgotten and I turned my thoughts into a pleasanter channel thus we proceeded up the park and entered the hall and as I ascended the stairs to my own chamber I had but one thought within me my heart was filled to overflowing with one single earnest wish having entered the room and shut the door I fell upon my knees and offered up a fervent but not impetuous prayer I will be done I strave to say throughout but father all things are possible with thee and may it be thy will was sure to follow that wish that prayer both men and women would have scorned me for but father thou will not despise I said I felt that it was true it seemed to me that another's welfare was at least as ardently implored for as my own may even that was the principal object of my heart's desire I might have been deceiving myself but that idea gave me confidence to ask and power to hope I did not ask in vain as for the primrose's I kept two of them in a glass in my room until they were completely withered and the house made through them out and the petals of the other I pressed between the leaves of my Bible I have them still and mean to keep them always End of Chapter 13