Autobiographical fiction; England -- Fiction; Feminist fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; Single women -- Fiction
“I think _you_ have not shown much mercy,” replied she, with a short,
bitter laugh; “killing the poor birds by wholesale in that shocking
manner, and putting the dear boy to such misery for a mere whim.”
I judged it prudent to say no more. This was the nearest approach to a
quarrel I ever had with Mrs. Bloomfield; as well as the greatest number
of words I ever exchanged with her at one time, since the day of my
first arrival.
But Mr. Robson and old Mrs. Bloomfield were not the only guests whose
coming to Wellwood House annoyed me; every visitor disturbed me more or
less; not so much because they neglected me (though I did feel their
conduct strange and disagreeable in that respect), as because I found
it impossible to keep my pupils away from them, as I was repeatedly
desired to do: Tom must talk to them, and Mary Ann must be noticed by
them. Neither the one nor the other knew what it was to feel any degree
of shamefacedness, or even common modesty. They would indecently and
clamorously interrupt the conversation of their elders, tease them with
the most impertinent questions, roughly collar the gentlemen, climb
their knees uninvited, hang about their shoulders or rifle their
pockets, pull the ladies’ gowns, disorder 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. But
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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