GOING SOUTH.
After the first shock of our sorrow was over, the question arose as to
what we were to do in future for our support. Grandma was already old,
while mother was not so young as she had been once, and neither could do
much towards their own maintenance, which necessarily would devolve upon
us their children. It had ever been a pet project of mine to go South as
a teacher, and when one day in looking over a Boston paper I
accidentally came across the advertisement of a Georgia lady, Mrs. A. D.
Lansing, who wished for a private governess, I resolved at once to apply
for the situation, greatly fearing lest I might be too late.
I was not, however; for after waiting impatiently for a few weeks, I
received a letter from the lady herself, who, after enumerating the
duties I was expected to perform and the branches I was to teach, added,
in a P. S.: “Before making any definite arrangements with Miss Lee, Mrs.
Lansing wishes to be informed if, either by her _friends_ or _herself_,
she is considered pretty, as a person of decidedly ordinary looks will
be preferred.”
“Spiteful, jealous old thing!” exclaimed Lizzie, who was looking over my
shoulder, “I wouldn’t stir a step.”
But I thought differently. My curiosity was roused to know the cause of
her strange freak; and then, too, six hundred dollars per year would
amply atone for any little peculiarities in my employer. So I answered
her letter forthwith, assuring her that neither my friends nor myself
had ever been guilty of calling me pretty—in short, I was decidedly
homely, and trusted that on that point at least I should please her.
“What a fib, Rosa,” said Charlie, when I told him what I had written.
“You know you are not homely. You used to be, I’ll admit; but you are
far from being so now. To be sure, you are not what many would call
handsome, but you are decidedly good-looking. You’ve got handsome eyes,
splendid hair (and he pulled one of my short, thick curls by way of
adding emphasis to his words) and your complexion is not one half so
sallow and muddy as it used to be. Depend upon it, this ‘Mrs. Angeline
Delafield Lansing, of Cedar Grove’ will think you have deceived her.”
“Nonsense!” I replied, seating myself at the piano, which was now my
constant companion, Mrs. Lansing having written that she was very
particular about music.
Now, to tell the truth, I was _not_ very much of a performer, but
looking upon the South very much as I did upon the far West, I fancied
that a small amount of showy accomplishments would pass for the real
coin. Still I determined to play as well as possible, and so week after
week I practised, until, when I had nearly given up all hopes of ever
hearing from the lady again, I one day received a letter bearing the W——
post-mark, and containing a check on a Boston bank for money sufficient
to defray my expenses. There were also a few hastily written lines,
saying that “Mrs. Lansing considered our engagement as settled, but she
should not expect me until the latter part of April, as she could not
immediately get rid of her present governess, a _painted, insipid_
creature from _New York_, and the veriest humbug in the world.”
“A sweet time you’ll have of it with madam,” said Charlie, “and once for
all I advise you to give up going. Why, only think, April there is
hotter than pepper, and of course you’ll take the fever and die.”
But I was not to be persuaded. The “sunny South” had for me a peculiar
fascination; and then, too, there was another reason which, more than
all others, prompted me to go. Georgia was the home of the _dark man_,
as I called him, and though there was hardly a probability of my ever
meeting him there, such a thing was still possible, and like
Longfellow’s Evangeline, who, on the broad Mississippi, felt that each
dip of the oar carried her nearer to her lost Gabriel, so each day I
felt a stronger and stronger conviction that somewhere in the southern
land I should find him.
In the meantime, Anna had been with us for a few weeks, but greatly
changed from the Anna of former times. Listlessly she moved from room to
room—never smiling, never weeping, and seldom speaking unless she were
first addressed. To her, everything was dark, deep night, and such a
gloom did her presence cast over us all, that though we would gladly
have kept her with us, we still felt relieved when she left us for a
home in Boston, where little Jamie soon became the idol of his
grandmother, whose subdued cheerfulness had ere long a visible effect
upon Anna. Cousin Will, too, had visited us, and after spending a short
time had sailed with brother John for California, promising himself a
joyous future, when he should return with money sufficient to purchase
the old homestead, which he said should be mother’s as long as she
lived.
It was a cold, dark, snowy morning in the latter part of April, when I
at last started on my journey. The surface of the ground was frozen
hard, the trees were leafless and bare, while but few green things gave
token that spring was with us. It is not strange, then, that I almost
fancied myself in another world, when after a prosperous sea voyage I
one morning went on shore at Charleston, and first breathed the soft,
balmy air of the South. Dense and green was the foliage of the trees,
while thousands of roses and flowering shrubs filled the air with a
perfume almost sickening to the senses. From Charleston to Augusta was a
wearisome ride, for the cars were crowded and dirty, and there was to me
nothing remarkably pleasing in the long stretches of cypress swamps and
pine barrens through which we passed.
It was late in the evening when we reached the town of C——, from whence
I was to proceed to W——, by stage. It was a most beautiful night; and
for hours I watched the soft moonlight as it glimmered among the trees
which lined either side of the narrow road, and whose branches often
swept against the windows of our lumbering vehicle. It was long after
sunrise when we arrived at W——, but so thickly wooded is the country
around, that I obtained not a single glimpse of the town until I
suddenly found myself “thar,” as the driver said, dismounting and
opening the door of our prison-house. The hotel into which I was
ushered, would, perhaps, compare favorably with our country taverns at
the North; but at each step I took, I felt a more and more painful
consciousness that _home_, my home, was far away.
After shaking the dust from my travelling dress, and slaking my thirst
from the big gourd shell (my special delight), which hung by the side of
a bucket of cool water which stood on a little stand in the parlor, I
inquired for some one who would take to Mrs. Lansing my card, and thus
apprise her of my arrival. The landlord immediately summoned a bright,
handsome mulatto boy, who, after receiving my orders, and favoring me
with a sight of his ivories, started off bare-headed, and for that
matter bare-bodied too, for Cedar Grove, which the landlord pointed out
to me in the distance, and which, with its dense surroundings of trees,
looked to me delightfully cool and pleasant. After waiting rather
impatiently for an hour or more, a large, old-fashioned carriage, drawn
by two rather poor-looking horses, stopped before the door. It belonged
to Mrs. Lansing; and the footman, jumping down from the rack behind,
handed me a note, in which the lady begged me to come directly to her
house, saying she was herself indisposed, or she would have come down to
meet me, and also adding, that if I would excuse her she would rather
not see me until supper-time, when she hoped to feel better.
At the extremity of Main street, we turned in at a ponderous gate, and
after passing through two or three fields or lawns, stopped at last in
front of Cedar Grove, which stood upon a slight eminence overlooking the
town. In perfect delight I gazed around me, for it seemed the embodiment
of my childish dreams, and involuntarily I exclaimed, “This is indeed
the sunny, sunny South.” It was very beautiful, that spacious yard and
garden, with their winding walks on which no ray of sunlight fell, so
securely were they shaded, by the cedar and the fir, the catalpa, the
magnolia, and the fig tree, most of them seen now by me for the first
time in all their natural beauty, reminded one so forcibly of Eden. The
house itself was a large, square building, surrounded on three sides by
a piazza, which I afterwards found was the family sitting-room; it being
there that they congregated both morning and evening. The building had
once been white, but the paint was nearly all worn off, and it now
presented a rather dilapidated appearance, with its broken shutters and
decayed pillars, round which vines and ivy were twining. The floors
within were bare, but scrupulously clean; while the rooms lacked the
costly furniture I had confidently expected to see.
Scarcely was I seated in the parlor, when I heard a sweet, childish
voice exclaim, “She’s in _thar_—she is,” while at the same time a pair
of soft, blue eyes looked through the crevice of the door, and then were
quickly withdrawn, their owner laughing aloud as if she had accomplished
some daring feat, and calling out, “I seen her, Hal—I did. And she don’t
look cross neither. You dassn’t peek in thar, dast you?”
They were my future pupils, I was sure; and already my heart warmed
towards them, particularly her with the silvery voice, and I was just
thinking of going out to find them, when I heard a light footstep on the
stairs, and the next moment a tall, dark-eyed girl, apparently fourteen
or fifteen years of age, entered the room, introducing herself as Miss
Lina Lansing, and welcoming me so cordially that I felt myself at once
at home.
“Mother,” said she, “is indisposed, as I believe she wrote you, and has
sent me to receive you, and ask what you would like.”
I had scarcely slept a moment the night previous, so I replied, that if
convenient, I would go immediately to my room. Ringing the bell, she
summoned to the room a short, dumpy mulatto, whom she called Cressy, and
who, she said, was to be my attendant. Following her up the stairs, I
was ushered into a large, airy chamber, which, though not furnished with
elegance, still contained everything for my comfort, even to a huge
_feather bed_, the sight of which made me wipe the perspiration from my
face.
“Shall I wash missus’ feet first, or comb her har,” asked the negress,
pouring a pitcher of water into a small bathing tub.
This was entirely new to me, who had always been accustomed to wait upon
myself, so I declined her offers of assistance, telling her, “I
preferred being alone, and could do everything for myself which was
necessary.”
“Laws, missus!” she answered, rolling the whites of her eyes, “’taint no
ways likely you can bresh and ’range all dat ar har,” pointing to my
thick and now somewhat tangled curls. “Why, Miss Lina’s straighter dan a
string, an’ I’ll be boun’ she never yet tache a comb to it herself.”
With some difficulty I convinced the African that her services were not
needed, and staring at me as if I had been a kind of monstrosity, she
left the room, the door of which I bolted against any new intruder. The
windows of my chamber looked out upon the garden, where now were
blossoming roses and flowers of every possible hue and form. A little to
the right, and about a quarter of a mile away was, another building,
larger and more imposing than that of Mrs. Lansing, while a great deal
of taste seemed to be displayed in the arrangement of the grounds. As
nearly as I could judge, it stood upon a little hill, for the trees
appeared to rise regularly one above the other, the fir and the cedar
forming the outer boundary; while, as I afterwards learned, the inner
rows consisted of the graceful magnolia, the wide-spreading catalpa, the
beautiful china tree, and the persimmon, whose leaves in the autumn wear
a most brilliant hue, and present so fine a contrast to the dark green
of the pine and the fir. Very, very pleasant it looked to me, with its
white walls just discernible amid the dense foliage which surrounded it,
and for a long time I stood gazing towards it wondering whose home it
was, and if the inmates were as happy as it seemed they might be.
At last, faint with the fatigue of my journey and the odor of the
flowers, which, from the garden below, came in at the open window, I
threw myself upon the lounge (feather bed looking altogether too
formidable) and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of Meadow Brook, of the
white house on the hill, and of the _dark man_, who, I thought, told me
that it should one day be my home. When at last I awoke, the sun was no
longer shining in at my windows, for it was late in the afternoon, and
the fiercest heat of the day was past. Springing up, I commenced
dressing with some trepidation, for I expected to meet the mistress of
the house at supper-time. My toilet was nearly completed when I heard in
the hall the patter of childish feet, while a round, bright eye was
applied to the key-hole. It was the same which had looked at me in the
parlor, and anxious to see its owner, I stepped out of the door just as
a fairy creature with golden curls started to run away. I was too quick
for her, however, and catching her in my arms, I pushed back the
clustering ringlets from her brow, and gazing into her sunny face, asked
her name.
Raising her white, waxen hand, she did for me the office I had done for
her, viz. pushed back _my_ curls, and looking in my face, answered, “Ma
says it’s _Jessica_, but Lina, Hal, and Uncle Dick call me _Jessie_, and
I like that a heap the best. You are our new governess, ain’t you?”
She was singularly beautiful, and yet it was not so much the regularity
of her features, nor the clearness of her complexion which made her so.
It was the light which shone in her lustrous blue eyes, which gave her
the expression of an angel, for such she was—an angel in her southern
home, which, without her would have been dark and cheerless. Her
brother, whom she called _Hal_, was three years older, and not nearly so
handsome. He was very dark, and it seemed to me that I had seen a face
like his before; but ere I could remember where, a faint voice from the
piazza, which faced the east and was now quite cool, called out,
“Halbert, Halbert, come here.”
“That’s ma,” said Jessie, getting down from my arms. “That’s ma—come and
see her,” and following her, I soon stood in the presence of Mrs.
Lansing, who was reclining rather indolently in a large willow chair,
while at her back was a negress half asleep, but appearing wide awake
whenever her mistress moved.
She was a chubby, rosy-cheeked woman, apparently thirty-five years of
age. Her eyes were very black, and she had a habit of frequently
shutting them, so as to show off the long, fringed eyelashes. On the
whole, I thought, she was quite prepossessing in her appearance, an
opinion, however, which I changed ere long; for by the time I reached
her, there was a dark cloud on her brow, evidently of displeasure or of
disappointment. Still she was very polite, offering me her jewelled
hand, and saying, “Miss Lee, I suppose. You are welcome to Georgia
then;” after an instant, she added, “You don’t look at all like I
thought you would.”
I was _uglier_ than she expected, I presumed, and the tears started to
my eyes as I replied, “I wrote to you that I was very plain, but after a
little I shall look better; I am tired now with travelling.”
A strange, peculiar smile flitted over her face, while she intently
regarded me as if to assure herself of my sanity. I was puzzled, and in
my perplexity I said something about returning home, if my looks were so
disagreeable. “They were used to me there, and didn’t mind it,” I said;
at the same time leaning my head against the vine-wreathed pillars, I
sobbed aloud. Lithe as a kitten, little Jessie sprang up behind me, and
winding her arms around my neck, asked why I cried.
“Did ma make you cry?” she said. “Uncle Dick says she makes all the
governesses cry.”
“Jessica, Jessica, get down this moment,” said the lady. “I did not
intend to hurt Miss Lee’s feelings, and do not understand how I could
have done so. She is either acting a part, or else she strangely
misunderstands me.”
I never acted a part in my life, and, somewhat indignant, I wiped away
my tears and asked “what she meant.”
There was the same smile on her face which I had noticed before, as she
said, “Do you really think yourself ugly?”
Of course I did. I had never thought otherwise, for hadn’t I been told
so ever since I was a child no larger than Jessie, and the impression
thus early received had never been eradicated. Thus I answered her, and
she believed me, for she replied, “You are mistaken, Miss Lee, for
however plain you might have been in childhood, you are not so now.
Neither do I understand how with those eyes, that hair and brow, you can
think yourself ugly. I do not believe you meant to deceive me, but, to
tell the truth, I am disappointed; but that cannot now be helped, and
we’ll make the best of it.”
Perfectly astonished, I listened to her remarks, giving her the credit
of meaning what she said, and for the first time in my life, I felt as I
suppose folks _must_ feel who think they are handsome! After this little
storm was over, she evidently exerted herself to be agreeable for a few
moments, and then rather abruptly asked me how old I was.
“Not quite eighteen!” she repeated in some surprise. “Why I supposed you
were _twenty-five_ at least! Don’t you think she looks older than
_Ada_?” turning to Lina, who answered quickly, “Oh, no, mother, nothing
like as old. Why, I shouldn’t think her over seventeen at the most.”
Now among my other misfortunes I numbered that of “looking old as the
hills,” so I didn’t care particularly for what they said, though it
struck me as rather singular that Mrs. Lansing should thus discuss me in
my presence; but this thought was lost in the more absorbing one as to
_who_ the _Ada_ could be of whom she had spoken. Possibly it was Ada
Montrose, though I ardently hoped to the contrary, for well I knew there
was no happiness for me where she was. Thinking it would be on a par
with the questions put to me, I was on the point of asking who _Ada_
was, when we were summoned to supper, which consisted mostly of broiled
chickens, strong coffee, iced milk, egg bread, and hoecakes, if I except
the row of sables who grouped themselves around the table, and the
_feather girl_, whose efforts to keep awake amused me so much that I
almost forgot to eat. We were nearly through when a handsome mulatto boy
entered and handed a letter to his mistress, which she immediately
opened, holding it so that the address could be read by Halbert, who,
after spelling it out, exclaimed, “That’s from Uncle Dick, I know!”
“Is he coming home?” asked Jessie, dropping her knife and fork, while
even Lina, who seldom evinced much interest in anything, roused up and
repeated the question which Jessie had asked.
“Yes. He is in New York now,” said Mrs. Lansing; “and will be here in a
week.”
“Good!” exclaimed Halbert.
“Oh, I’m right glad,” said Jessie, while Lina asked if _Ada_ was with
him.
“No,” returned Mrs. Lansing. “She is still in Paris with her cousin, and
will not return until autumn.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Lina, to which Hal rejoined, “And so am I.
She’s so proud and stuck up, I can’t bear her.”
“Children, children,” spoke Mrs. Lansing, rather sternly, at the same
time rising from the table.
It was not yet sunset; and as soon as we were again assembled upon the
piazza, Halbert and Jessie, who were never still, asked permission to
“run up to Uncle Dick’s, and tell the servants he was coming home.”
Mrs. Lansing made no objection; and then they proposed that I should
accompany them. Feeling that a walk would do me good, I turned towards
Mrs. Lansing, for her consent. It was given, of course; but had I known
her better I should have detected a shade of displeasure on her face.
“You had better go too,” said she to Lina; but Lina was too listless and
indolent, and so we went without her, little Jessie holding my hand, and
jumping instead of walking.
“Eva’s mighty lazy,” said she, at last; “don’t you think so!”
“Who’s lazy?” I asked; and she replied—
“’Thar, I done forgot again, and called her _Eva_. Her name is
Evangeline, and we used to call her Eva, until mother read a bad book
that had little Eva in it, and then she called her Lina.”
“’Twan’t a bad book, neither,” exclaimed Halbert, stopping suddenly;
“Uncle Dick said ’twan’t; but it made mother mad, I tell you, and now
when she gets rarin’ he calls her _Mrs. St. Clare_.”
I needed no one to tell me that it was “Uncle Tom,” to which he
referred, but I said nothing except to chide the children for their
negro language.
“I know we talk awful,” said Jessie, brushing her curls from her eyes.
“Uncle Dick says we do, but I mean to learn better. I don’t talk half
like I used to.”
I could not help smiling in spite of myself upon the little creature
bounding and frisking at my side. _Uncle Dick_ seemed to be her oracle,
and after looking around to make sure that no one heard me, I asked “who
he was?”
“Why, he’s Uncle Dick,” said she; “the bestest uncle in the world;”
while Halbert added, “He’s got a heap of money, too; and once, when ma
thought I was asleep, I heard her tell Lina, that if he didn’t get
married it would be divided between us, and I should have the most,
’cause I’m named after him, Richard Halbert Delafield Lansing, and they
call me _Hal_, for short. I told Uncle Dick what mother said, and I tell
you, he looked blacker’n a nigger; and somehow, after that he took to
ridin’ and foolin’ with Ada, wonderfully.”
As yet everything with me was comparatively conjecture. I did not know
positively that the _Uncle Dick_ of the children was the “_dark man_” of
Rosa Lee; but the answer to my next question would decide it, and half
tremblingly was it put. “Who is this Ada. What is her other name?”
“_Ada Montrose_, and she lives with us. Uncle Dick is her guardian,”
said Halbert, throwing a bit of dirt at the negro boy who accompanied
us, and who returned the young gentleman’s salute with interest.
I was satisfied, and did not wish to hear any more. I should meet him
again, and tinged as my temperament is with a love of the marvellous, I
could not help believing that Providence had led me there. By this time
we had reached “Sunny Bank,” as it was very appropriately called, and
never before had I seen so lovely a spot. The grounds, which were very
spacious, were surrounded on all sides by a hedge of the beautiful
Cherokee rose, and, unlike those of Cedar Grove, were laid out with
perfect taste and order, Mr. Delafield, as I afterwards learned, had
spent much time at the North, and in the arrangement of his house and
grounds, he had not only imitated, but far surpassed the style of the
country seats which are so often found within a few miles of our eastern
cities. For this he was in a measure indebted to Dame Nature, who at the
South scatters her favors with a lavish hand, sometimes beautifying and
adorning objects far better than the utmost skill of man could do. The
gate at the entrance of Sunny Bank was a huge wooden structure, having
for its _posts_ two immense oak trees, around whose trunks the graceful
ivy twined, and then hung in fanciful festoons from several of the lower
branches.
As I had supposed, the house itself stood upon a slight elevation, and
the walk which led up to it was bordered on either side by the mock
orange, whose boughs, meeting overhead, formed an effectual screen from
the rays of the sun. The building, though fashioned in the same style as
that of Mrs. Lansing, was much larger, and had about it a far more
stylish air. Much of the furniture had been brought from New York,
Halbert said; adding that “all the floors were covered with matting in
the summer, and elegant Turkey carpets in the winter.”
In the rear of the house were the cabins of the negroes, who were
lounging idly about, some on the ground, some in the doors, and some
stretched at full length upon the back of the piazza, evidently enjoying
the cool evening breeze. At sight of us, they roused up a little, and
when Halbert, after announcing that I was Miss Lee, the new governess,
further informed them that their master was coming home in a few days,
they instantly gathered round us, evincing so much joy as to astonish
me, who had heretofore looked upon a southern slaveholder as a tyrant
greatly dreaded by his vassals.
“You must like Mr. Delafield very much,” I ventured to remark to one old
lady, whose hair was white as wool.
“_Like_ Mass’r Richard!” said she, rolling up her eyes. “Lor’ bless you,
miss, _like_ don’t begin to ’spress it. Why, I farly worships him; for
didn’t I tend him when he was a nussin’ baby? and hain’t these old arms
toted him more’n a million of miles?”
Here her voice was drowned by the others, all of whom united in
declaring him the “berry best mass’r in Georgy.” This did not, of
course, tend in any way to diminish the interest which I felt in the
stranger; and, ere I was aware of it, I found myself anticipating his
return almost as anxiously as the negroes themselves.
It was dark when we reached Cedar Grove; and as there was company in the
parlor, I went immediately to my room. I had not been there long,
however, when a servant was sent up, saying, that “Mrs. Lansing wished
me to come down and play.”
This was an ordeal which I greatly dreaded; for, from what I had seen of
Mrs. Lansing, I knew she would criticise my performance closely; and
fearing inability to acquit myself at all creditably, I trembled
violently as I descended to the parlor, which was nearly full of
visitors.
“Miss Lee, ladies,” said Mrs. Lansing, at the same time motioning
towards the music-stool as the seat I was expected to occupy.
There was a film before my eyes as I took my post and nervously turned
over the leaves of a music-book; which, by the way, was wrong side up,
though I didn’t know it then! I have heard much of _stage fright_, and
sure am I. that never did poor mortal suffer more from an attack of that
nature than did I during the few moments that I sat there, trying to
recall something familiar, something which I knew I could play. At last,
when the patience of the company seemed nearly exhausted, I dashed off
at random, playing _parts_ of two or three different tunes, changing the
key as many times, using the load pedal when I should have used the
soft, and at last ending with the most horrid discord to which my ears
ever listened. The audience were, undoubtedly, thunderstruck, for they
spoke not for the space of a minute; and, with a feeling of desperation,
I was about to make a second effort, hoping thereby to retrieve my
character, when Mrs. Lansing said, in a cold, sarcastic voice, “That
will do, Miss Lee; we are perfectly satisfied.” Then, turning to a
haughty-looking young lady who sat by the window, she continued: “Come,
Miss Porter; you certainly can’t refuse to favor us, _now_.”
With a very consequential air, for which I could not blame her, Miss
Porter took my place, and, without any apparent effort, killed my poor
performance outright; for she executed admirably some of the most
difficult music. When she had finished, the ladies rose to go, Mrs.
Lansing following them to the door, and whispering (I know she did)
something about “her being humbugged again.”
When she returned to the room, I stole a glance at her face, which was
very red, and indicative of anything but good will towards me. I felt
the hot tears rising, but when, with a bang, she closed the piano, and
turning towards me, demanded “how long I had taken music lessons,” I
forced them back, and answered promptly, “five quarters.”
“Only five quarters!” she repeated, in evident amazement. “Why, Lina has
taken _three years_, and she wouldn’t consider herself competent to
_teach_, even were she _poor_, and obliged to do so.”
The latter part of this speech I did not fancy; for even if a person
_is_ poor, and obliged to work, they do not often like to be taunted
with it; at least, _I_ didn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I was at the
mercy of Mrs. Lansing, who proceeded to say, that “she had often been
deceived by Northern teachers, who thought to palm themselves off for
better scholars than they really were; and now she had almost come to
the conclusion that they were not so well educated as the majority of
Southern girls.”
“_I_, at least, never intended to deceive you,” said I; “I told you in
my letter that I was _not_ an accomplished musician, and still you
consented to employ me.”
Here I broke down entirely, and wept passionately, telling her, in
broken sentences, that “however mortifying it would be, I was willing to
go back, if she wished it.”
At this point, little Jessie, who all the time had been present, came to
my side, and winding her arms around my neck, said, “You sha’n’t go
home. We like you, Hal and me, and you sha’n’t go—shall she, Hal?”
Thus appealed to, Hal took up my cause, which he warmly defended;
telling his mother “she made every governess cry, and told them they
didn’t know anything, when they _did_, for Uncle Dick said so, and _he_
knew; and that, as for music, Miss Lee played a _heap_ better than Lina,
because she played something _new_—something he never heard before.”
“Nor any one else,” muttered Mrs. Lansing, while Hal continued, “Uncle
Dick says, the best teachers sometimes don’t play at all, and Miss Lee
sha’n’t go home.”
Very faintly, I repeated my willingness to do so, if Mrs. Lansing
thought best; to which she replied, “I will deal fairly with you, Miss
Lee. I am disappointed in your musical abilities, and if I find that
your are deficient in other things, I shall be obliged to dismiss you;
but for a few days I will keep you on trial.”
“Uncle Dick won’t let you send her away, I know,” said Hal; and this, I
am inclined to think, determined her upon getting rid of me before his
return.
Still, I was ostensibly _upon trial_, and whoever has been in a similar
situation, will readily understand that I could not, of course, do
myself justice. With Mrs. Lansing’s prying eyes continually upon me, I
really acted as though I were half-witted; and by the close of the
second day, I myself began to doubt the soundness of my mind, wondering
why the folks at home had never discovered my stupidity. Continual
excitement kept my cheeks in a constant glow, while the remainder of my
face was quite pale, and several times, in their mother’s presence, the
children told me “how handsome I was!” This annoyed her—and on the
morning of the third day, she informed me that she would defray my
expenses back to Massachusetts, where I could tell them I was _too
young_ to suit her; adding, that I might as well go the next morning.
This was a death-blow to my hopes; and so violent was the shock, that I
could not even weep. Hal and Jessie were furious, declaring I should not
go; and when I convinced them that I must, they insisted upon my
teaching that day, at all events.
To this I consented; and as Mrs. Lansing had now no object in watching
me, she absented herself from the schoolroom entirely, leaving me to do
as I pleased. The consequence was, that my benumbed faculties awoke
again to life, everything which, for the last ten days, I seemed to have
forgotten, came back to me; while even the children noticed how
differently I appeared.