CHAPTER II. FIRST LESSONS IN THE ART OF INSTRUCTION

Aswedrovealong,myspiritsrevivedagain,andIturned,withpleasure,tothecontemplationofthenewlifeuponwhichIwasentering.ButthoughitwasnotfarpastthemiddleofSeptember,theheavycloudsandstrongnorth-easterlywindcombinedtorenderthedayextremelycoldanddrearyandthejourneyseemedaverylongone,for,asSmithobserved,theroadswere“veryheavy”andcertainly,hishorsewasveryheavytoo:itcrawledupthehills,andcreptdownthem,andonlycondescendedtoshakeitssidesinatrotwheretheroadwasatadeadleveloraverygentleslope,whichwasrarelythecaseinthoseruggedregionssothatitwasnearlyoneo’clockbeforewereachedtheplaceofourdestination.Yet,afterall,whenweenteredtheloftyirongateway,whenwedrovesoftlyupthesmooth,well-rolledcarriage-road,withthegreenlawnoneachside,studdedwithyoungtrees,andapproachedthenewbutstatelymansionofWellwood,risingaboveitsmushroompoplar-groves,myheartfailedme,andIwisheditwereamileortwofartheroff.ForthefirsttimeinmylifeImuststandalone:therewasnoretreatingnow.Imustenterthathouse,andintroducemyselfamongitsstrangeinhabitants.Buthowwasittobedone?True,Iwasnearnineteenbut,thankstomyretiredlifeandtheprotectingcareofmymotherandsister,Iwellknewthatmanyagirloffifteen,orunder,wasgiftedwithamorewomanlyaddress,andgreatereaseandself-possession,thanIwas.Yet,ifMrs.Bloomfieldwereakind,motherlywoman,Imightdoverywell,afterallandthechildren,ofcourse,Ishouldsoonbeateasewiththem—andMr.Bloomfield,Ihoped,Ishouldhavebutlittletodowith. “Becalm,becalm,whateverhappens,”IsaidwithinmyselfandtrulyIkeptthisresolutionsowell,andwassofullyoccupiedinsteadyingmynervesandstiflingtherebelliousflutterofmyheart,thatwhenIwasadmittedintothehallandusheredintothepresenceofMrs.Bloomfield,Ialmostforgottoanswerherpolitesalutationanditafterwardsstruckme,thatthelittleIdidsaywasspokeninthetoneofonehalf-deadorhalf-asleep.Thelady,too,wassomewhatchillyinhermanner,asIdiscoveredwhenIhadtimetoreflect.Shewasatall,spare,statelywoman,withthickblackhair,coldgreyeyes,andextremelysallowcomplexion. Withduepoliteness,however,sheshowedmemybedroom,andleftmetheretotakealittlerefreshment.Iwassomewhatdismayedatmyappearanceonlookingintheglass:thecoldwindhadswelledandreddenedmyhands,uncurledandentangledmyhair,anddyedmyfaceofapalepurpleaddtothismycollarwashorridlycrumpled,myfrocksplashedwithmud,myfeetcladinstoutnewboots,andasthetrunkswerenotbroughtup,therewasnoremedysohavingsmoothedmyhairaswellasIcould,andrepeatedlytwitchedmyobduratecollar,Iproceededtoclompdownthetwoflightsofs