Autobiographical fiction; England -- Fiction; Feminist fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; Single women -- Fiction
Already, I seemed to feel my intellect deteriorating, my heart
petrifying, my soul contracting; and I trembled lest my very moral
perceptions should become deadened, my distinctions of right and wrong
confounded, and all my better faculties be sunk, at last, beneath the
baneful influence of such a mode of life. The gross vapours of earth
were gathering around me, and closing in upon my inward heaven; and
thus it was that Mr. Weston rose at length upon me, appearing like the
morning star in my horizon, to save me from the fear of utter darkness;
and I rejoiced that I had now a subject for contemplation that was
above me, not beneath. I was glad to see that all the world was not
made up of Bloomfields, Murrays, Hatfields, Ashbys, &c.; and that human
excellence was not a mere dream of the imagination. When we hear a
little good and no harm of a person, it is easy and pleasant to imagine
more: in short, it is needless to analyse all my thoughts; but Sunday
was now become a day of peculiar delight to me (I was now almost
broken-in to the back corner in the carriage), for I liked to hear
him—and I liked to see him, too; though I knew he was not handsome, or
even what is called agreeable, in outward aspect; but, certainly, he
was not ugly.
In stature he was a little, a very little, above the middle size; the
outline of his face would be pronounced too square for beauty, but to
me it announced decision of character; his dark brown hair was not
carefully curled, like Mr. Hatfield’s, but simply brushed aside over a
broad white forehead; the eyebrows, I suppose, were too projecting, but
from under those dark brows there gleamed an eye of singular power,
brown in colour, not large, and somewhat deep-set, but strikingly
brilliant, and full of expression; there was character, too, in the
mouth, something that bespoke a man of firm purpose and an habitual
thinker; and when he smiled—but I will not speak of that yet, for, at
the time I mention, I had never seen him smile: and, indeed, his
general appearance did not impress me with the idea of a man given to
such a relaxation, nor of such an individual as the cottagers described
him. I had early formed my opinion of him; and, in spite of Miss
Murray’s objurgations: was fully convinced that he was a man of strong
sense, firm faith, and ardent piety, but thoughtful and stern: and when
I found that, to his other good qualities, was added that of true
benevolence and gentle, considerate kindness, the discovery, perhaps,
delighted me the more, as I had not been prepared to expect it.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SHOWER
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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