their hair, tumble their collars, and importunately beg for their trinkets.
Mrs. Bloomfield had the sense to be shocked and annoyed at all this, but she had not sense to prevent it. She expected me to prevent it;—and how could I—when the guests, with their fine clothes and new faces, continually flattered and indulged them out of complaisance to their parents—how could I with my homely garments, every-day face, and honest words, draw them away? I strained every nerve to do so;—by striving to amuse them, I endeavoured to attract them to my side, by the exertion of such authority as I possessed, and by such severity as I dared to use, I tried to deter them from tormenting the guests; and by reproaching their unmannerly conduct, to make them ashamed to repeat it. But they knew no shame—they scorned authority which had no terrors to back it, and as for kindness and affection, either they had no hearts, or such as they had were so strongly guarded, and so well concealed, that I, with all my efforts had not yet discovered how to reach them.
But soon my trials in this quarter came to a close—sooner than I either expected or desired; for one sweet evening towards the close of May, as I was rejoicing in the near approach of the holidays, and congratulating myself upon having made some progress with my pupils—as far as their learning went at least, for I had instilled something into their heads, and I had at length, brought them to be a little—a very little—more rational about getting their lessons done in time to leave some space for recreation, instead of tormenting themselves and me all day long to no purpose, Mrs. Bloomfield sent for me, and calmly told me that after Midsummer my services would be no longer required. She assured me that my character and general conduct were unexceptionable; but the children had made so little improvement since my arrival, that Mr. Bloomfield and she felt it their duty to seek some other mode of instruction. Though superior to most children of their years in abilities, they were decidedly behind them in attainments, their manners were uncultivated, and their tempers unruly. And this she attributed to a want of sufficient firmness, and diligent, persevering care on my part.
Unshaken firmness, devoted diligence, unwearied perseverance, unceasing care, were the very qualifications on which I had secretly prided myself, and by which I had hoped in time, to overcome all difficulties, and obtain success at last. I wished to say something in my own justification, but in attempting to speak, I felt my voice falter, and rather than testify any emotion, or suffer the tears to overflow, that were already gathering in my eyes, I chose to keep silence, and bear all, like a self-convicted culprit.
Thus was I dismissed, and thus I sought my home. Alas! what would they think of me? unable, after all my boasting to keep my place, even for a single year, as governess to three small children, whose mother was asserted, by my own aunt, to be a “very nice woman.” Having been thus weighed in the balance, and found wanting, t I need not hope they would be willing to try me again. And this was an unwelcome thought, for vexed, harassed, disappointed as I had been, and greatly as I had learnt to love and value my home, I was not yet weary of adventure, nor willing to relax my efforts. I knew all parents were not like Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield, and I was certain all children were not like theirs. The next family must be different, and any change must be for the better. I had been seasoned by adversity, and tutored by experience, and I longed to redeem my lost honour in the eyes of those whose opinion was more than that of all the world to me.
CHAPTER VI
The Parsonage Again
F or a few months I remained peaceably at home, in the quiet enjoyment of liberty and rest, and genuine friend ship, from all of which I had fasted so long, and in the earnest prosecution of my studies to recover what I had lost
Mrs. Bloomfield had the sense to be shocked and annoyed at all this, but she had not sense to prevent it. She expected me to prevent it;—and how could I—when the guests, with their fine clothes and new faces, continually flattered and indulged them out of complaisance to their parents—how could I with my homely garments, every-day face, and honest words, draw them away? I strained every nerve to do so;—by striving to amuse them, I endeavoured to attract them to my side, by the exertion of such authority as I possessed, and by such severity as I dared to use, I tried to deter them from tormenting the guests; and by reproaching their unmannerly conduct, to make them ashamed to repeat it. But they knew no shame—they scorned authority which had no terrors to back it, and as for kindness and affection, either they had no hearts, or such as they had were so strongly guarded, and so well concealed, that I, with all my efforts had not yet discovered how to reach them.
But soon my trials in this quarter came to a close—sooner than I either expected or desired; for one sweet evening towards the close of May, as I was rejoicing in the near approach of the holidays, and congratulating myself upon having made some progress with my pupils—as far as their learning went at least, for I had instilled something into their heads, and I had at length, brought them to be a little—a very little—more rational about getting their lessons done in time to leave some space for recreation, instead of tormenting themselves and me all day long to no purpose, Mrs. Bloomfield sent for me, and calmly told me that after Midsummer my services would be no longer required. She assured me that my character and general conduct were unexceptionable; but the children had made so little improvement since my arrival, that Mr. Bloomfield and she felt it their duty to seek some other mode of instruction. Though superior to most children of their years in abilities, they were decidedly behind them in attainments, their manners were uncultivated, and their tempers unruly. And this she attributed to a want of sufficient firmness, and diligent, persevering care on my part.
Unshaken firmness, devoted diligence, unwearied perseverance, unceasing care, were the very qualifications on which I had secretly prided myself, and by which I had hoped in time, to overcome all difficulties, and obtain success at last. I wished to say something in my own justification, but in attempting to speak, I felt my voice falter, and rather than testify any emotion, or suffer the tears to overflow, that were already gathering in my eyes, I chose to keep silence, and bear all, like a self-convicted culprit.
Thus was I dismissed, and thus I sought my home. Alas! what would they think of me? unable, after all my boasting to keep my place, even for a single year, as governess to three small children, whose mother was asserted, by my own aunt, to be a “very nice woman.” Having been thus weighed in the balance, and found wanting, t I need not hope they would be willing to try me again. And this was an unwelcome thought, for vexed, harassed, disappointed as I had been, and greatly as I had learnt to love and value my home, I was not yet weary of adventure, nor willing to relax my efforts. I knew all parents were not like Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield, and I was certain all children were not like theirs. The next family must be different, and any change must be for the better. I had been seasoned by adversity, and tutored by experience, and I longed to redeem my lost honour in the eyes of those whose opinion was more than that of all the world to me.
CHAPTER VI
The Parsonage Again
F or a few months I remained peaceably at home, in the quiet enjoyment of liberty and rest, and genuine friend ship, from all of which I had fasted so long, and in the earnest prosecution of my studies to recover what I had lost
Similar Books
