There was no good school in the neighborhood, and as soon as under
her care and rule the child's health warranted it, she had a daily
governess come from the city to give her lessons; and finding she
was fond of music, Maud's long-silent piano was opened, and the air
was filled, now by the accomplished hand of the master, now by the
unmelodious bang of the pupil. Things went better now; Gabrielle had
no time for idling; every hour brought its own occupation, and regular
exercise, wholesome diet, and agreeable occupation broke up the habit
of picking and pecking at dainties, which had been so pernicious.
She caught, too, some of Margaret's tastes, and instead of thinking
about dress as a matter of great import, would content herself to put
on a woodland rig, quaint, yet not ugly, and go off with her in quest
of the gems Nature is always flinging lavishly about. They came home
from their expeditions with baskets running over with ferns, mosses,
lichens, grasses, and nobody knows what not, till their rooms looked
verdant with beauty. Margaret got up a mossy bank with red berries
nestling in it here and there; Gabrielle must have one, like yet not
like it, for no two hands work on one and the same line; and Margaret
had a rustic basket hanging from every possible point, and Gabrielle
hasted to do the same. Mrs. Grey looked on with delight at all this. No
utterly spoiled character riots in such simple pursuits, and she who
begins to love Nature, begins to grow cold to all that is artificial.
While in that house personal neatness was made a law, dress was
never talked about as much more than a necessary evil to be attended
to twice a year, and then forgotten. And now that she had taken to
ornamenting her room, Gabrielle found she must keep it in order, and
learned, too, that she had not a little executive power in the matter
of arrangement of furniture and clothing. She began to observe, too,
that though grandmamma would not scold, she could and did punish, and
that invariably, when infringement of a rule required it. Later on she
perceived a regular system of rewards going silently on. After a week
of exceptional docility, an invisible good fairy would leave tokens of
her presence in her room; now it was a vase for flowers; now a little
photograph; now a paper-weight; it was not always possible to tell who
this good fairy was; but whoever it was, knew just what she wanted.
So the summer bloomed and budded and bore fruit, and faded into
autumn, and autumn froze into winter. There was rarely a conflict now;
Gabrielle was too busy to find time for them, and too fond of the deeds
of the good fairy to run the risk of one when she could help it. Mrs.
Grey was not in the least surprised when, one day, the girl came shyly
behind her, put her arms around her neck, and whispered, "Grandmamma, I
wish I was a Christian!"
"So do I, my dear child," was the reply. "And why not become one, this
minute?"
"I don't know; I've tried ever so many times."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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