Autobiographical fiction; England -- Fiction; Feminist fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; Single women -- Fiction
She received me very kindly; and, though I was a poor clergyman’s
daughter, a governess, and a schoolmistress, she welcomed me with
unaffected pleasure to her home; and—what surprised me rather—took some
pains to make my visit agreeable. I could see, it is true, that she
expected me to be greatly struck with the magnificence that surrounded
her; and, I confess, I was rather annoyed at her evident efforts to
reassure me, and prevent me from being overwhelmed by so much
grandeur—too much awed at the idea of encountering her husband and
mother-in-law, or too much ashamed of my own humble appearance. I was
not ashamed of it at all; for, though plain, I had taken good care not
to be shabby or mean, and should have been pretty considerably at my
ease, if my condescending hostess had not taken such manifest pains to
make me so; and, as for the magnificence that surrounded her, nothing
that met my eyes struck me or affected me half so much as her own
altered appearance. Whether from the influence of fashionable
dissipation, or some other evil, a space of little more than twelve
months had had the effect that might be expected from as many years, in
reducing the plumpness of her form, the freshness of her complexion,
the vivacity of her movements, and the exuberance of her spirits.
I wished to know if she was unhappy; but I felt it was not my province
to inquire: I might endeavour to win her confidence; but, if she chose
to conceal her matrimonial cares from me, I would trouble her with no
obtrusive questions. I, therefore, at first, confined myself to a few
general inquiries about her health and welfare, and a few commendations
on the beauty of the park, and of the little girl that should have been
a boy: a small delicate infant of seven or eight weeks old, whom its
mother seemed to regard with no remarkable degree of interest or
affection, though full as much as I expected her to show.
Shortly after my arrival, she commissioned her maid to conduct me to my
room and see that I had everything I wanted; it was a small,
unpretending, but sufficiently comfortable apartment. When I descended
thence—having divested myself of all travelling encumbrances, and
arranged my toilet with due consideration for the feelings of my lady
hostess, she conducted me herself to the room I was to occupy when I
chose to be alone, or when she was engaged with visitors, or obliged to
be with her mother-in-law, or otherwise prevented, as she said, from
enjoying the pleasure of my society. It was a quiet, tidy little
sitting-room; and I was not sorry to be provided with such a harbour of
refuge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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