My Governess Life ... New edition

Front matter

1S9 "AND THIS IS YOUR FRIEND MISS WILFREY? WELCOME TO HOMELEIGH, MY DEAR." MY GOVERNESS LIFE OR USING MY ONE TALENT BY EMMA RAYMOND PITMAN Author of " Garnered Sheaves , " Florence Godfrey's Faith ", Life'- D&ily Ministry ", _c. WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALFRED PEARSE NEW EDITION LONDON BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C. GLASGOW AND DUBLIN CONTENTS. Rhap. page L A Personal Introduction, 9 II. My Adnt Pattie 15 III. Prospect Hall, 21 IV. Eirst Experiences of Boarding-school Life, . 28 V. Mt First Dat at School, 35 VI. A Quaint Couple, 41 VII. A Chat with Mat Cumberland, 48 VIII. Miss Wilfbet's Stort, 54 IX. Mt Sabbath Bible-Class, 61 X. Improving One's Appearance 67 XL Mat Cumberland's Home 73 XII. Twilight Talk, 81 Kill. Ghosts, Real or Sham! 86 XIV. About Noist Religion 92 XV. Our Eirst Visit to a Primitive Methodist Revival Meeting 99 XVI.

How Madge was Affected 103 XVII. Homleigh Again 108 XVIII. The Discipline of Life, 114 XIX. Our Saturday Picnic, 120 XX. Drifting Out to Sea 125 XXI. Rescue, 131 XXII. Daniel Barber's Sermon 138 XXIII. The Awakening in the School 144 XXIV. An TJnolerioal Pheaceier, 151 XXV. The Midnight Crt, 157 XXVI. Olive Pascoe's Death 164 XXVII. An Unfortunate Occurrence, 169 XXVIII. An Unwelcome Visitor, 176 XXIX. Harper Cumberland helps the Chapel Funds, VI CONTENTS. Chap. paob XXX. A Midnight Robber, I89 XXXI. What is to be Done Next? 195 XXXII. The Shadow of a Great Sorrow, 201 XXXIII. Released, 208 XXXIV. Fred Wilfret comes upon the Scene, . . . 213 XXXV. The Last of Earth 217 XXXVI. A Proposal 225 XXXVII. Mt Aunt's Counsel, 230 XXXVIII. Harper's Visit 235 XXXIX. Gleams of Light on the Pathwat, 242 XL.

Bt Madge's Grave 247 XLI. Laying the Foundation Stone, 253 XLII. Our New Sunday-school, 259 XLIII. Starting a Good Work; Wayside Sowing, . . 266 XLIV. Letters from Bonn. Two Years After, . . 272 XLV. No Light 278 XL VI. Light Dawns at Last 284 XLVII. Fruit of our Sunday-school 290 XLVIII. A Gathered Sheaf 297 XLIX. Of Things in General Page ILLUSTRATIONS. "And this is tour friend Miss Wilfret? Welcome to Holmleigh, my dear," Frontispiece. 110 "Madge unfastened her skirt, and I assisted May to tie it to the oar," 127 " The Rev. Uriah dashed forward and caught hold of the fellow," 193 "We were sitting by Madge's grave on the last afternoon of his stay," MY GOVEKNESS LIFE; OR, USING MY ONE TALENT.

Introduction

. " Girlhood's sunny days are over With today; They, with all their wayward brightness, Pass away ! Woman's earnest path before me Lieth straight; Who can tell what grief and anguish There await?" I was neither very old, nor very wise, nor very brave, when I commenced to fight the world for myself. Only eight een, — and somewhat small for my age, with pale face, somewhat mournful but honest, trustful eyes, abundant braids of dark brown hair ornamented only with a single bow of black ribbon— for I was in deep mourning — and a plain black dress trimmed with crape, — there you have my portrait. I, Effie Northcroft, orphaned, poor, and almost homeless, had to seek a situation, and to earn my own living. " Earning a living " is a very grand thing when considered only as an idea. It sounds very well as the title of a book, or as a flourish to a page of wise advice; but I suppose that when the theory is reduced to practice, it will be found impossible to earn a living without encountering many dis agreeables.

At least I know that it was so with me. I cannot say that I turned to governessing, all the while disliking the pursuit, because I had to get bread. That would not be wholly correct. It is true that I had to get my own living, for I was portionless, and dependent upon the kindness of a distant relative for a home; but I liked teaching — really liked it. I always felt at home when busy with little ones; indeed, I think I found my true vocation when I entered upon the career of a governess. My father had died some six months previously, leaving only just sufficient to bury him decently, and provide for other necessary expenses. My mother had been dead some years, and as my father needed my society to cheer him in liis lonely country dwelling, he had educated me, while I had taken the post of housekeeper.

I suppose I made a great many mistakes in my duties, and committed blunders in economy and management which an older housekeeper would have blamed severely; but for all that, my father bore with me, encouraged me, and praised me to everybody as a little model housewife. But with his economy and mine combined, we could only just live. My father was a dissenting minister — I will not say to what denomination he belonged, because I have no desire to cast a reproach on it — but his salary was barely sufficient to provide us with necessaries, and that only by pinching, and scraping. I cannot tell you the little schemes and contrivances we were compelled to have recourse to in order to make both ends meet; but in spite of it all, many a time my father's boots were thin, and his coat threadbare, while a joint of meat was a luxury not often to be found on our table, because of the poverty of his purse.

All! me, if people would but consider that ministers must live, as well as they, I do not think they would screw their pastors down to the smallest possible pittance, neither would they delay the payment of that pittance beyond quarter-day. But this subject is a painful one to me; it brings up unpleasant memories of the past, so I will dismiss it at once. As I tell you, my father had died, and after realizing all the money that could possibly be realized by the sale of his furniture and part of his library — for I wished to retain some of the well-worn volumes for myself — I found that a sum of about forty pounds remained to me. My Aunt A PERSONAL

INTRODUCTION.

. Pattie, who took charge of business matters at this most trying juncture, then advised me to deposit the money in the bank, and take up my residence with her. This was a noble offer on her part, for she had but just enough to keep herself, and certain I am that she meant it in all kindness and sincerity; but I felt too independent to do any such thing. So, thanking my Aunt Pattie warmly, I disclosed my plans of earning a living to her, and accompanied her to her home for a temporary visit, while I was looking out for an opening. After seeking to dissuade me by every argument of which she was capable, aunt gave up the attempt, and resigned herself to what appeared to be inevitable, merely remarking that she hoped that some months would pass by before I succeeded in my attempts. At first — and for some time — it seemed probable that aunt's wish would be fulfilled.

I could obtain no situation; nobody seemed to require a governess who had never been out in a regular situation before. So, while waiting for the lucky chance to turn up, I tried to turn my talents to account. I wrote sketches, poems, and short articles, and sent them to the editors of different periodicals, hoping that they would feel inclined to afford me a chance of appearing in print. I had heard that authorship was a remunerative profession, and visions of gold danced before my girlish fancy, as my nimble pen tripped over the paper. But editors look coldly upon amateurs; they are far too inclined to think that only known and acknowledged authors can write well, and so, very frequently, they turn their backs upon young, budding talent. At least so I found it, although I will own that having grown older, and gained more experience, I know that those early manuscripts exhibited signs of much ignor ance and crudeness.

Still, possibly I should have attained some success, had I only received encouragement. I dropped authorship, ancl took to painting landscapes and flowers. Drawing and painting had always been favourite occupations of mine, and now was the time to turn them to account, if I could. So, after finishing some half-dozen pieces, I carried them to a stationer's shop, and obtained his permission to exhibit them for sale in his window. I anticipated their ready sale — indeed, it seemed to me that they must go off immediately, and that there would be such a demand for my sketches, that I should not be able to supply them fast enough. But at the end of a month only one sketch had been disposed of, and the purchaser of that had higgled and haggled over the price, until he had succeeded in getting it for one half of the sum I had originally expected to receive.

So, after this experience, I mournfully decided that painting was not the means by which I was to earn a living. I mentally took stock of my remaining resources, for it seemed hard that any one willing to work, could not obtain employment in one form or another. I could do embroidery, and Berlin-wool work, both, and it struck me that I could prepare some specimens for the httle shop at Holmleigh. If I could earn but a small amount, it would suffice to eke out the scanty means at home, and keep me from being so entire a burden on Aunt Pattie — for I must tell you, that all this time she would not hear of my diminishing my little hoard in the bank, by one farthing. So I set to work, and after labouring hard for two or three weeks, packed up a parcel of pretty antimacassars, pincushion covers, and collars, with which I intended to obtain an introduction to the customers of the Berlin-wool shop.

A very prim young lady kept the shop, and smiled at me somewhat sarcastically, I thought, as I disclosed my errand. Nothing daunted, however, I displayed my specimens and asked if she thought she could dispose of them on commission, or purchase them of me on her own account, and give me an order to make others. This latter plan seemed the most feasible, for after appraising them and re-appraising them, the prim young lady offered me finally a sum for the lot, which scarcely did more than pay for the raw material. I took it for fear of losing both money and pains, but I de clined to make any more on the same terms, and mentally decided that Berlin-wool work would never suit me. I spent no more time over that. What was to be done next. Aunt Pattie and I talked over the matter until we were tired of talking. Morning, noon, and night, I was planning what to do and how to take the next step. There seemed to be really nothing A PERSONAL

INTRODUCTION.

. 13 but teaching; and provided I could get the chance, I knew I should like that occupation very well. For two or three years previous to my father's death, I had been a teacher in the small Sunday-school connected with his chapel, and had taken pleasure and pride in the work of imparting religious instruction to the young rustics. I had to teach them how to read, it was true, but I would fain hope that I imparted something of the spiritual signification of the lesson, for I had learnt at that early age to love the God of my father; and the Sabbath hours spent in the midst of my class were among the happiest hours of the week. Then I had formed a class of poor girls who came to me on two evenings in each week for instruction suited to their capacities and require ments, so that teaching seemed to be specially my forte.

Therefore to teaching I determined to go; and it would be hard, I thought, if in time some suitable opening should not present itself. I procured all the papers I could think of, and answered dozens of advertisements emanating from one quarter and another, but nothing came of it. Then I resolved to advertise. So after secluding myself in my bedroom for a couple of hours, I emerged one morning with the following advertisement written ready for post that afternoon: WANTED by a Young Lady of 18, a Situation as JUNIOR TEACHER in a Ladies' School. Well trained in all the requirements of an English education. Salary small at first, as experience is sought. I had written and altered, re-written and re-altered, until I was weary, but I thought this would suit. So I requested Aunt Pattie to look at it.

She took it, and putting on her spectacles, perused it very thoughtfully, and then laying it down on the table, demanded of me whether I was in earnest or not? " Certainly, aunt," said I. " You will not live always to provide me with a home; besides, I don't wish to be a burden on your limited means, neither would it be right." " Child, you pain me by talking such nonsense," returned she. " Do you think that I miss what you have from me . My house is large enough for us both, my fire and lamp will suffice for two, and your bit of food will never seem any expense to me. While as for clothes, you will not need anything worth speaking of, for some time yet." " I am sorry to pain you, auntie, but you see I cannot be idle; neither can I be dependent, while I have health and strength. Papa expected me to work at something or other most of the day, and the habit clings to me still.

I have tried writing, painting, and fancy-work, but have failed to render either of these things remunerative. If I could have succeeded in earning something, if only a decent pittance by these means, I would have remained with you, for my wants are few, and easily met. But I cannot; and so I fall back upon my original idea of teaching. I feel that I must work while I can, and when a rainy day comes, I shall not repent it. But you will not deny me the privilege of looking upon your house as my home, during vacations, and at any time when I might be out of a situation?" " You need not ask the question, Effie. You know, full well, that it is the dearest wish of my heart that you should make it your home now, but since you will not do that, you may come here, and welcome, whenever you wish. I cannot say more."

"But what do you think of my advertisement, aunt? Do you think it will do?" " Yes, I should suppose so. Certainly you use a refreshing plainness about it. People will never appraise you above your true value, seeing that you so greatly depreciate your self." " Well, auntie, I cannot boast of myself. People must find me out, and see what I am worth. I will use my abilities diligently and leave the result, if only I can get a chance." " The chance will come, all too soon for me, Effie. My heart is heavy, because of this, for I had hoped in conse quence of your silence respecting the teaching scheme, that you were satisfied to remain here. But if you must go, I suppose you must. I can only wish you happiness and success, which I do with all my heart." I kissed my aunt, and returned to my desk to despatch my advertisement to a paper circulated among scholastic readers.

I hoped and prayed for a favourable answer to it. MY AUNT PATTIE. 15 I prayed over it, because my father used to say that we should never do anything, over which we could not pray; and I thought I could sincerely pray over this effort to earn my living honestly in the sight of all men. I prayed too that God would guide my feet into a right path, where I could be used for His glory, and employ the talent which had been intrusted to me. I posted my letter before nightfall, and returned home, dreaming all sorts of golden visions. My fertile imagination had already overleaped the bounds of my present situation, and had shown me myself, successful, honoured, and happy. Ah! me, what visions youth is apt to indulge in. Could the coming years but realize our highest aspirations, we should all rule in some domain or other.

Chapter II. My Aunt Pattie

" O thou child of many prayers, Life hath quicksands, life hath Bnares I Care and age come unawares. Bear a lily in thy hand, Gates of brass cannot withstand One touch of that magic hand. Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, In thy heart the dew of youth, On thy lips the smile of truth." — Longfellow. I have not described my Aunt Pattie to you, but I am sure you would like to know more concerning her, for she is the dearest, kindest, and most generous aunt alive. She is on what people term " the wrong side of forty," though somebody has very sensibly said that it is the right side, inasmuch as it is nearer to the end of the pilgrimage. Her hair, once raven-black, is now iron-gray, and hangs in regular curls around a classically-formed head. Her profile is at once interesting and refined, while the expression of her features is most intellectual.

Her eyes have an ex pression wliich bespeaks honesty of purpose, faithfulness in friendship, and unaffected sincerity of heart. Perhaps she may appear plain to some people, but to my mind she is beautiful — beautiful, not with the arts and cosmetics of Madame Eachel, but with the spirituelle thoughtfulness and self-sacrificing love which shines out ever through the face. Sometimes you see a far-off look in her eyes as she ponders, which seems to speak of communion with nobler and better things; and then a single touch or sign will instantly recall her to the prompt attention which the necessities of others or the duties of life may demand. For I must tell you that she is deaf, stone deaf. She has heard no sound of sweet music, or endearing talk, or familiar tones, or eloquent speech, or solemn prayer, since early girlhood.

The sweet melodies of creation, the roar and the dash of the breakers, the crash of thunders, the soughing of the winds, the varied songs of bird life, the wonderful, mysterious harmonies of nature — all have been as a sealed volume to her. Yet my Aunt Pattie and I can talk almost as easily as you who possess good powers of hearing. How ? By the lips — the eyes — the face. Auntie watches the motions of my lips, and receives my meaning in a moment. We never experience any difficulty in talking, although outsiders and strangers retire from the task in despair. And contrary to the general run of people, you must live with my aunt, to appreciate her worth fully. To know her, is to love her, and the more you know her, the more you can love her. Her qualities of heart and soul are like hidden violets, only those who know her best and live with her in daily intimacy, can discover their sweetness and beauty.

Aunt Pattie is, as I have told you, unmarried, but as I tell you this, I think of the romance of unrequited affection wliich lingers around a certain friendship of her early life. I scarcely know how it was, but the love which promised at one time to bloom into a closer union, died away, and the persons concerned drifted far from each other. I don't MY AUNT PATTIE. 17 know whether I am right or wrong, but in my judgment men often marry the worst, and leave the best of our sex Captivated by appearances, they prize a girl for what she appears to be, and not for what she is. Then they have to pay for their blunders, and who can pity them? Aunt Pattie, then, was staid, kind, unmarried, thoughtful, refined, indulgent, and deaf. I do not think I need say more to complete the picture of her. As I have told you, she had offered me the shelter of her home immediately on my father's death, and much opposed my going out into a situation.

My six months' residence with her had deepened the affection she had always borne me; and my determination to seek a position as teacher, I could see, caused her much pain. Her face still wore its usual sweet expression as I carried my fancy work down into the little parlour on the evening of the day on which I had posted my letter, but I could see a peculiarly tender sadness lurking upon her features, and my inner consciousness told me that it was on my account. I sat down and watched the nimble fingers, deftly fashion ing some fresh garments out of old, and mentally recalled the many things auntie had done for me since I became an inmate of her house. My wardrobe had been somewhat poor at my father's — indeed, if I were to say very poor, it would not be overstating the case. A girl of sixteen or seventeen lacks the thought and power of contrivance which an older person possesses; moreover, she is very apt to put off such things as repairs and alterations to an indefinite period, if she has not some female relative to superintend her.

Since my father's death, Aunt Pattie had completely renovated my wardrobe, and now was adding some last finishing touches to a morning dress. Even my father's coats had been brought into requisition, and a couple of good useful jackets were the result. My heart overflowed with emotions of gratitude, and yielding to the impulse of the moment I reached over, and clasping my arms around auntie's neck kissed her most tenderly. "Why, Effie," said she; "I do believe you are really sorry to leave me after all. Ah! my darling, if I could only keep you!" - ( 189 ) B "So I am, auntie. I will own it; but what am I to do? And now you see the advertisement is gone." "So it is; but you are not compelled to abide by it after all. A plan has just struck me. Could you not go out as morning or daily governess to some of the farmers' children round Holmleigh, or to some of the tradesmen's perhaps; it would not signify which."

" What an idea, auntie ! Do you know anybody in want of a daily governess? I do not." "Not just now, but I don't know everything. I remember, however, that just before you came here, Mrs. Jenkins, up at Tylcot's farm, was inquiring for a governess. It would be so nice if you could go out every morning to your duties and then return here every evening. We should not seem divided. And I could have a late dinner, say at five o'clock, to make you feel at home." "Auntie, I shouldn't wish that; supposing I obtained a situation in the neighbourhood I wouldn't break through all your rules and habits so ruthlessly. And besides, I should think the people, wherever I went, wouldn't be so stingy as to deny me a bit of dinner. But we must bear in mind the fact that the remuneration for morning governesses is shamefully low.

I knew one at Starkey Wood who only received twenty pounds a year, and she was expected to be at her post from nine in the morning till three in the afternoon. I fancy that she had to provide her own dinner too. So if I succeed in getting a post of this kind, it will be only a pretence at earning a living." " But then, my child, you could even make eight shillings a week suffice with my home to reside in. You could make use of the money entirely for your own necessities. I would never ask you for one farthing of it." " You dear good auntie," I replied. " I cannot refuse you this request. So, to please you, I will go to all the places I can think of to-morrow and see if I cannot get an engagement." We spent most of that evening in building castles in the air— or rather, I should say that my aunt did, for it seemed to her as if I must suceeed.

I feared that I should not, however, for I knew that the opportunities for engagements MY AUNT PATTIE. 19 at Holmleigh as daily governess, were few and far between. But the next morning I set out on my errand, and called at the confectioner's shop, the stationer's shop, the Berlin-wool shop, and in fact, every other shop that I could think of as being at all likely to afford an introduction, but to no purpose. Nobody knew of any vacancy in that line, and after consultation with the stationer, I wrote out a notice to this effect: — "A young lady is willing to give morning lessons to a small family, or to take a situation as daily governess. Qualified to teach the usual branches of an English education, together with the rudiments of music. Terms moderate. Inquire within." The stationer assured me that this would do nicely, as he kindly placed the paper in his window.

Still, he said, I might wait some time before I got any applications, con sidering the limited openings for governesses in Holmleigh. He also wanted to know if I objected to take a situation as nursery governess. I thought not, being always fond of children; still I preferred allowing that idea to remain in abeyance, until I had seen the result of my other efforts. Aunt Pattie was full of anticipation; every knock which came to the door, although she could only know of it by seeing me go to answer it, set her in a flutter of expectation. She had dreamed that it was only for me to seek for a situation in order to gain it. But from the outset I indulged no such hope, feeling certain that if any such opening had existed in Holmleigh or its neighbourhood, I must have heard of it. So a week rolled away, and no application came.

Aunt Pattie's face grew graver every day, as this last chance seemed to be slipping by; while on my part I began to fear that my advertisement would prove a failure also. I watched for the post every morning, with white face and palpitating heart, until the postman came in sight, and then as he went by without calling, my heart gave a great throb, for my chance for that day of hearing anything was over, Holmleigh only boasting one post daily. But at the very end of the week one application came. As the postman handed the epistle to me, I caught at it eagerly, and darted off to my room, there to peruse my letter in quiet. It dated from Prospect Hall, Southminster, Dorsetshire, and was written by a Mrs. Blake, lady-principal of a select establish ment for young ladies. She told me that she had noticed my advertisement, and, thinking I should suit her, had written to know particulars concerning my education, references, and experience in teaching.

She particularly desired to know if I had ever filled a similar situation before, and requested a reply by the next post. Here was clearly the dawning of a chance, and it behoved me to consult my aunt upon the matter, without loss of time. Going down stairs very soberly and very thoughtfully, I entered the little sitting-room, where sat my Aunt Pattie, with her ever busy hands sorting some worsteds. Without any word by way of introduction, I laid the letter before her, and sitting down, quietly awaited her opinion. She read it through twice, in her own thoughtful manner, while her tall spare form seemed agitated at the very idea, and then turned to me again. "What will you do, Effie? Are there no applications from the neighbourhood?" "None, aunt. I had better answer this letter to-day, had I not?"

"I suppose you must; but it seems hard that you cannot get a chance of some kind here in Holmleigh. What will you say to Mrs. Blake?" "I must tell her that I have never held any situation before, and probably that will settle the matter. I have not many references to give. There are one or two gentle men and ladies at Starkey Wood, who knew me very well. I suppose I may refer to them. My education is pretty fair, I think; and as you said, auntie, I did not put my qualifications at too high a figure." " You will be a long way from me, Effie. Southminster must be quite a hundred and fifty miles away." " I suppose it is, but I should have a holiday twice a year; a month at Christmas, and six or eight weeks at Midsummer. So that I should spend almost a quarter of the year with you. Still, auntie, even supposing I should get this, of which there is no certainty yet, other letters may come in, and I may be able to choose a place nearer home."