CHAPTER VI.

THE PARSONAGE AGAIN

For a few months I remained peaceably at home, in the quiet enjoyment

of liberty and rest, and genuine friendship, from all of which I had

fasted so long; and in the earnest prosecution of my studies, to

recover what I had lost during my stay at Wellwood House, and to lay in

new stores for future use. My father’s health was still very infirm,

but not materially worse than when I last saw him; and I was glad I had

it in my power to cheer him by my return, and to amuse him with singing

his favourite songs.

No one triumphed over my failure, or said I had better have taken his

or her advice, and quietly stayed at home. All were glad to have me

back again, and lavished more kindness than ever upon me, to make up

for the sufferings I had undergone; but not one would touch a shilling

of what I had so cheerfully earned and so carefully saved, in the hope

of sharing it with them. By dint of pinching here, and scraping there,

our debts were already nearly paid. Mary had had good success with her

drawings; but our father had insisted upon _her_ likewise keeping all

the produce of her industry to herself. All we could spare from the

supply of our humble wardrobe and our little casual expenses, he

directed us to put into the savings’-bank; saying, we knew not how soon

we might be dependent on that alone for support: for he felt he had not

long to be with us, and what would become of our mother and us when he

was gone, God only knew!

Dear papa! if he had troubled himself less about the afflictions that

threatened us in case of his death, I am convinced that dreaded event

would not have taken place so soon. My mother would never suffer him to

ponder on the subject if she could help it.

“Oh, Richard!” exclaimed she, on one occasion, “if you would but

dismiss such gloomy subjects from your mind, you would live as long as

any of us; at least you would live to see the girls married, and

yourself a happy grandfather, with a canty old dame for your

companion.”

My mother laughed, and so did my father: but his laugh soon perished in

a dreary sigh.

“_They_ married—poor penniless things!” said he; “who will take them I

wonder!”

“Why, nobody shall that isn’t thankful for them. Wasn’t I penniless

when you took me? and you _pretended_, at least, to be vastly pleased

with your acquisition. But it’s no matter whether they get married or

not: we can devise a thousand honest ways of making a livelihood. And I

wonder, Richard, you can think of bothering your head about our

_poverty_ in case of your death; as if _that_ would be anything

compared with the calamity of losing you—an affliction that you well

know would swallow up all others, and which you ought to do your utmost

to preserve us from: and there is nothing like a cheerful mind for

keeping the body in health.”

“I know, Alice, it is wrong to keep repining as I do, but I cannot help

it: you must bear with me.”

“I _won’t_ bear with you, if I can alter you,” replied my mother: but

the harshness of her words was undone by the earnest affection of her

tone and pleasant smile, that made my father smile again, less sadly

and less transiently than was his wont.

“Mamma,” said I, as soon as I could find an opportunity of speaking

with her alone, “my money is but little, and cannot last long; if I

could increase it, it would lessen papa’s anxiety, on one subject at

least. I cannot draw like Mary, and so the best thing I could do would

be to look out for another situation.”

“And so you would actually try again, Agnes?”

“Decidedly, I would.”

“Why, my dear, I should have thought you had had enough of it.”

“I know,” said I, “everybody is not like Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield—”

“Some are worse,” interrupted my mother.

“But not many, I think,” replied I, “and I’m sure all children are not

like theirs; for I and Mary were not: we always did as you bid us,

didn’t we?”

“Generally: but then, I did not spoil you; and you were not perfect

angels after all: Mary had a fund of quiet obstinacy, and you were

somewhat faulty in regard to temper; but you were very good children on

the whole.”

“I know I was sulky sometimes, and I should have been glad to see these

children sulky sometimes too; for then I could have understood them:

but they never were, for they _could_ not be offended, nor hurt, nor

ashamed: they could not be unhappy in any way, except when they were in

a passion.”

“Well, if they _could_ not, it was not their fault: you cannot expect

stone to be as pliable as clay.”

“No, but still it is very unpleasant to live with such unimpressible,

incomprehensible creatures. You cannot love them; and if you could,

your love would be utterly thrown away: they could neither return it,

nor value, nor understand it. But, however, even if I should stumble on

such a family again, which is quite unlikely, I have all this

experience to begin with, and I should manage better another time; and

the end and aim of this preamble is, let me try again.”

“Well, my girl, you are not easily discouraged, I see: I am glad of

that. But, let me tell you, you are a good deal paler and thinner than

when you first left home; and we cannot have you undermining your

health to hoard up money either for yourself or others.”

“Mary tells me I am changed too; and I don’t much wonder at it, for I

was in a constant state of agitation and anxiety all day long: but next

time I am determined to take things coolly.”

After some further discussion, my mother promised once more to assist

me, provided I would wait and be patient; and I left her to broach the

matter to my father, when and how she deemed it most advisable: never

doubting her ability to obtain his consent. Meantime, I searched, with

great interest, the advertising columns of the newspapers, and wrote

answers to every “Wanted a Governess” that appeared at all eligible;

but all my letters, as well as the replies, when I got any, were

dutifully shown to my mother; and she, to my chagrin, made me reject

the situations one after another: these were low people, these were too

exacting in their demands, and these too niggardly in their

remuneration.

“Your talents are not such as every poor clergyman’s daughter

possesses, Agnes,” she would say, “and you must not throw them away.

Remember, you promised to be patient: there is no need of hurry: you

have plenty of time before you, and may have many chances yet.”

At length, she advised me to put an advertisement, myself, in the

paper, stating my qualifications, &c.

“Music, singing, drawing, French, Latin, and German,” said she, “are no

mean assemblage: many will be glad to have so much in one instructor;

and this time, you shall try your fortune in a somewhat higher

family—in that of some genuine, thoroughbred gentleman; for such are

far more likely to treat you with proper respect and consideration than

those purse-proud tradespeople and arrogant upstarts. I have known

several among the higher ranks who treated their governesses quite as

one of the family; though some, I allow, are as insolent and exacting

as any one else can be: for there are bad and good in all classes.”

The advertisement was quickly written and despatched. Of the two

parties who answered it, but one would consent to give me fifty pounds,

the sum my mother bade me name as the salary I should require; and

here, I hesitated about engaging myself, as I feared the children would

be too old, and their parents would require some one more showy, or

more experienced, if not more accomplished than I. But my mother

dissuaded me from declining it on that account: I should do vastly

well, she said, if I would only throw aside my diffidence, and acquire

a little more confidence in myself. I was just to give a plain, true

statement of my acquirements and qualifications, and name what

stipulations I chose to make, and then await the result. The only

stipulation I ventured to propose, was that I might be allowed two

months’ holidays during the year to visit my friends, at Midsummer and

Christmas. The unknown lady, in her reply, made no objection to this,

and stated that, as to my acquirements, she had no doubt I should be

able to give satisfaction; but in the engagement of governesses she

considered those things as but subordinate points; as being situated in

the neighbourhood of O——, she could get masters to supply any

deficiencies in that respect: but, in her opinion, next to

unimpeachable morality, a mild and cheerful temper and obliging

disposition were the most essential requisities.

My mother did not relish this at all, and now made many objections to

my accepting the situation; in which my sister warmly supported her:

but, unwilling to be balked again, I overruled them all; and, having

first obtained the consent of my father (who had, a short time

previously, been apprised of these transactions), I wrote a most

obliging epistle to my unknown correspondent, and, finally, the bargain

was concluded.

It was decreed that on the last day of January I was to enter upon my

new office as governess in the family of Mr. Murray, of Horton Lodge,

near O——, about seventy miles from our village: a formidable distance

to me, as I had never been above twenty miles from home in all the

course of my twenty years’ sojourn on earth; and as, moreover, every

individual in that family and in the neighbourhood was utterly unknown

to myself and all my acquaintances. But this rendered it only the more

piquant to me. I had now, in some measure, got rid of the _mauvaise

honte_ that had formerly oppressed me so much; there was a pleasing

excitement in the idea of entering these unknown regions, and making my

way alone among its strange inhabitants. I now flattered myself I was

going to see something in the world: Mr. Murray’s residence was near a

large town, and not in a manufacturing district, where the people had

nothing to do but to make money; his rank from what I could gather,

appeared to be higher than that of Mr. Bloomfield; and, doubtless, he

was one of those genuine thoroughbred gentry my mother spoke of, who

would treat his governess with due consideration as a respectable

well-educated lady, the instructor and guide of his children, and not a

mere upper servant. Then, my pupils being older, would be more

rational, more teachable, and less troublesome than the last; they

would be less confined to the schoolroom, and not require that constant

labour and incessant watching; and, finally, bright visions mingled

with my hopes, with which the care of children and the mere duties of a

governess had little or nothing to do. Thus, the reader will see that I

had no claim to be regarded as a martyr to filial piety, going forth to

sacrifice peace and liberty for the sole purpose of laying up stores

for the comfort and support of my parents: though certainly the comfort

of my father, and the future support of my mother, had a large share in

my calculations; and fifty pounds appeared to me no ordinary sum. I

must have decent clothes becoming my station; I must, it seemed, put

out my washing, and also pay for my four annual journeys between Horton

Lodge and home; but with strict attention to economy, surely twenty

pounds, or little more, would cover those expenses, and then there

would be thirty for the bank, or little less: what a valuable addition

to our stock! Oh, I must struggle to keep this situation, whatever it

might be! both for my own honour among my friends and for the solid

services I might render them by my continuance there.