[Illustration: Stories of a Governess.]
STORIES
OF A GOVERNESS.
BY
MISS ANNIE FISLER.
NEW YORK:
PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION
AND CHURCH BOOK DEPOSITORY,
762 BROADWAY.
1866.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
the GENERAL PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION AND
CHURCH BOOK SOCIETY, in the Clerk’s Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of
New York.
PUBLISHED THROUGH THE
OFFERINGS OF THE SUNDAY SCHOOL OF
TRINITY CHURCH,
PITTSBURGH, PA.
IN REMEMBRANCE
OF PLEASANT DAYS
AT “SOUTHSIDE.”
STORIES OF A GOVERNESS.
CHAPTER I.
The children had all been very eager about the new governess. They had
sat full three minutes at a time, more than once, discoursing about
her, wondering whether she was young or old, whether she was pretty or
ugly, and whether she was cross or good-tempered. In short, there had
been no end to their wonderings; but they could not agree, and so sat
waiting full of curiosity till she should come down stairs.
Lillie sat on the floor in front of the grate, her chin on her hands,
her eyes fixed on the bright fire. Frank was watching the door, in a
very unnatural sort of quietness for a boy, with Tan curled up at his
feet; and Jennie was nervously tearing off the corners of her book,
since it had grown too dark to read it, thinking that Miss Lane was a
very long time in taking off her cloak.
On the sofa lay a plump little darling, with a pair of dark soft eyes
shining out of the stillness; one round rosy cheek rested upon her
pretty brown hand, and the silky hair was tangled by her race with Tan
on the piazza. Nobody knew what Rosie was thinking, for Rosie did not
talk much—did not tell all the puzzles in her child-brain, though it
was quite full of them, like any other child’s.
Outside, the wind had gone down, but the bare trees, the naked lawn,
and the great wide stretch of waste land beyond that, looked bleak
enough in the gathering gloom of the winter twilight. Softly fluttering
down, like white birds, came a few light flakes of the first snow, and
now and then the swaying back of a thick cedar-tree, showed a grave at
its foot, receiving the downy covering. It was the resting place of the
children’s mother; she had lain there a year, and the little ones had
grown quite used to the sight of that which had once made their hearts
ache for “poor mamma out in the cold.”
There was a wistful look in the little faces, and a yearning for love
in the little hearts all unsatisfied, since the good mother had gone to
rest; but none, even down to little Rosie, had forgotten the prayers
she had taught them, nor to lift, night and morning, their innocent
hands to the All-Father.
And now Tan had risen, snuffed about, gone from one child to another,
pattering about on his soft paws, saying, “good night” to all. He
sprang noiselessly upon the sofa, by Rosie’s head, and taking in his
mouth a beautiful white kitten lying there, carried it off to his
basket in the corner.
At this movement of Tan’s every child was on its feet, to witness this
nightly performance, which afforded the lookers-on the most intense
delight. Kitty submitted very quietly, as a matter of course, and
the puppy trotted off as gravely as mother cat might have done. He
put pussy to bed first, turning her over to her own side with his
paws, if she encroached upon his, and then, ensconcing himself snugly
in his corner of the basket, he winked himself to sleep with much
satisfaction. When Tan had gone to sleep, the children grew tired of
waiting again; but presently, a shout from Frank, who had gone to the
window, roused them.
“There’s papa!” he cried, and in two seconds, all, even sleepy Rosie,
were in the hall, waiting for his greeting. In they came, a joyous
party, clinging to their papa’s arms and knees, claiming kisses and
answers to a multitude of questions in one breath, forgetting their
late interest in the new governess who stayed so long in her own room,
and caring only to welcome him who claimed a double share of their
love, now that they had no mother.
Jennie rang the bell, ordering James, when he answered it, rather
imperiously, to take her father’s coat and to bring his slippers,
bustling about uneasily, and overturning a light stand near her in her
haste.
“Softly, Jennie daughter; not so much noise,” chided her papa, rubbing
his hands before the blaze, as if he were glad to be at home again.
Gently as the words were spoken, they brought tears to the eyes of
the sensitive child, and she drew back with a shadow fallen upon her
gladness.
With shy ecstasy Rosie was rubbing her brown face against her papa,
much as pussy might have done; and Lillie performed a joyful dance with
Tan, who had waked up with the commotion, holding him by the fore-paws,
and endangering the costly vases by her romping. Frank was pouring out
a history of the day with great glee, standing first upon one foot,
then upon the other, winding up with:
“And Ben brought Miss Lane from the cars at half past four. We have not
seen her yet. But papa—”
He stopped. There she was.
“How do you do, Mr. Graham? How do you do, children?” said a sweet
voice, and they all, including Tan, became as mute as mice.
James came with candles, and then the examination began. Miss Lane was
not old, neither was she very young; she was almost as small and slight
as Jennie, and not at all pretty, as Frank declared more than once,
though he liked to look at her face too.
She was dressed neatly and well; her collar shone, her hair shone, her
teeth shone, her hands were almost lily white, and her step as light as
the snow-fall out of doors. She had a quiet sort of grace that was very
fascinating, and from the crown of her head to the sole of her small
walking-shoe, stood before them the perfect lady.