CHAPTER I. THE PARSONAGE

lesituationcouldbeprocured.Atlast,tomygreatjoy,itwasdecreedthatIshouldtakechargeoftheyoungfamilyofacertainMrs.Bloomfieldwhommykind,primauntGreyhadknowninheryouth,andassertedtobeaverynicewoman.Herhusbandwasaretiredtradesman,whohadrealizedaverycomfortablefortunebutcouldnotbeprevailedupontogiveagreatersalarythantwenty-fivepoundstotheinstructressofhischildren.I,however,wasgladtoacceptthis,ratherthanrefusethesituation—whichmyparentswereinclinedtothinkthebetterplan. Butsomeweeksmorewereyettobedevotedtopreparation.Howlong,howtediousthoseweeksappearedtome!Yettheywerehappyonesinthemain—fullofbrighthopesandardentexpectations.WithwhatpeculiarpleasureIassistedatthemakingofmynewclothes,and,subsequently,thepackingofmytrunks!Buttherewasafeelingofbitternessminglingwiththelatteroccupationtooandwhenitwasdone—whenallwasreadyformydepartureonthemorrow,andthelastnightathomeapproached—asuddenanguishseemedtoswellmyheart.Mydearfriendslookedsosad,andspokesoverykindly,thatIcouldscarcelykeepmyeyesfromoverflowing:butIstillaffectedtobegay.IhadtakenmylastramblewithMaryonthemoors,mylastwalkinthegarden,androundthehouseIhadfed,withher,ourpetpigeonsforthelasttime—theprettycreaturesthatwehadtamedtopecktheirfoodfromourhands:Ihadgivenafarewellstroketoalltheirsilkybacksastheycrowdedinmylap.Ihadtenderlykissedmyownpeculiarfavourites,thepairofsnow-whitefantailsIhadplayedmylasttuneontheoldfamiliarpiano,andsungmylastsongtopapa:notthelast,Ihoped,butthelastforwhatappearedtomeaverylongtime.And,perhaps,whenIdidthesethingsagainitwouldbewithdifferentfeelings:circumstancesmightbechanged,andthishousemightneverbemysettledhomeagain.Mydearlittlefriend,thekitten,wouldcertainlybechanged:shewasalreadygrowingafinecatandwhenIreturned,evenforahastyvisitatChristmas,would,mostlikely,haveforgottenbothherplaymateandhermerrypranks.IhadrompedwithherforthelasttimeandwhenIstrokedhersoftbrightfur,whileshelaypurringherselftosleepinmylap,itwaswithafeelingofsadnessIcouldnoteasilydisguise.Thenatbed-time,whenIretiredwithMarytoourquietlittlechamber,wherealreadymydrawerswereclearedoutandmyshareofthebookcasewasempty—andwhere,hereafter,shewouldhavetosleepalone,indrearysolitude,assheexpressedit—myheartsankmorethanever:IfeltasifIhadbeenselfishandwrongtopersistinleavingherandwhenIkneltoncemorebesideourlittlebed,IprayedforablessingonherandonmyparentsmoreferventlythaneverIhaddonebefore.Toconcealmyemotion,Iburiedmyfaceinmyhands,andtheywerepresentlybathedintears.Iperceived,onrising,thatshehadbeencryingtoo:butneitherofusspokeandinsilencewebetookourselvestoourrepose,creepingmorecloselytogetherfromtheconsciousnessthatweweretopartsosoon. Butthemorningbroughtarenewalofhopeandspirits.Iwastodepartearlythattheconveyancewhichtookme(agig,hiredfromMr.Smith,thedraper,grocer,andtea-dealerofthevillage)mightreturnthesameday.Irose,washed,dressed,swallowedahastybreakfast,receivedthefondembracesofmyfather,mother,andsister,kissedthecat—tothegreatscandalofSally,themaid—shookhandswithher,mountedthegig,drewmyveilovermyface,andthen,butnottillthen,burstintoafloodoftears.ThegigrolledonIlookedbackmydearmotherandsisterwerestillstandingatthedoor,lookingafterme,andwavingtheiradieux.Ireturnedtheirsalute,andprayedGodtoblessthemfrommyheart:wedescendedthehill,andIcouldseethemnomore. “It’sacoldishmornin’foryou,MissAgnes,”observedSmith“andadarksome’untoobutwe’shappengettoyonspotaforetherecomemuchraintosignify.” “Yes,Ihopeso,”repliedI,ascalmlyasIcould. “It’scomedagoodsuplastnighttoo.” “Yes.” “Butthiscoldwindwillhappenkeepitoff.” “Perhapsitwill.” Hereendedourcolloquy.Wecrossedthevalley,andbegantoascendtheoppositehill.Asweweretoilingup,Ilookedbackagaintherewasthevillagespire,andtheoldgreyparsonagebeyondit,baskinginaslantingbeamofsunshine—itwasbutasicklyray,butthevillageandsurroundinghillswereallinsombreshade,andIhailedthewanderingbeamasapropitiousomentomyhome.WithclaspedhandsIferventlyimploredablessingonitsinhabitants,andhastilyturnedawayforIsawthesunshinewasdepartingandIcarefullyavoidedanotherglance,lestIshouldseeitingloomyshadow,liketherestofthelandscape.