. 
 
 CORBET 
 
 ^ CHRONICLES 

 
 .
 
 ' 
 
 A / 6//',/ 
 
 Lady Betty's Governess; 
 
 * '" 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CORBET CHRONICLES. 
 
 ZC7CF ELLEN GUERNSEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "IRISH AMY," "WINIFRED," "CHRISTMAS AT CEDAR HILL, 
 "SCHOOL-GIRL'S TREASURY," "CHILD'S TREASURE," ETC 
 
 NEW- YORK : 
 T. "W H I T TA. K E3 R, 
 
 No. 2 BIBLE HOUSE.
 
 according to Act of Congress, in the year 18T3, 
 
 THOMAS WHITTAKEB, 
 In the office of the Librarian . Congress, at Washington. 
 
 T. JOHSLAXD ETEBZCAiPC rOtJND27, aCTFOUK CO. N. *.
 
 THE PEEAMBLE. 
 
 I was a young maid and just about 
 to be married to my excellent husband, 
 with whom I have lived so long and so 
 happily, my dear and honored mother- 
 in-law gave me as a wedding present, a chronicle 
 (if I may so call it) which she herself had received 
 in like manner, from her grandame, who brought 
 her up. She said it had for some generations 
 been the custom in her family to keep such annals, 
 and in this way had many facts and circumstances 
 be-en preserved which would otherwise have been 
 lost. 
 
 I have always preserved this chronicle with 
 great care, and shall make a copy of it (if time and 
 opportunity present) for the use of my daughters, 
 feeling that my dear and honored cousin, Lord 
 Stantou, hath the best right to the original manu- 
 script. 
 
 Thinking upon doing the same put it into my 
 
 (5) 
 
 2047314
 
 6 The Preamble. 
 
 mind to make a similar chronicle for tlie use of 
 mine own daughters. I feel that it will interest 
 them (especially when I am dead and gone, as I 
 soon shall be) to know wliat their mother was at 
 their age. I am able to make this account the 
 more full and particular, as during the year or two 
 before I was married, and specially while I was 
 living in the family of my dear and honored lady at 
 Stanton Court, it was my habit to keep a journal, 
 in which I wrote down not only what most con- 
 cerned me, but a vast deal besides. 
 
 In these pages I have transcribed a part of that 
 journal, sometimes supplementing the text with 
 my present recollections of events in those 
 days. 
 
 It hath been my lot to see many and sad 
 changes. The Archbishop who was so great with 
 king and court when these pages were written, I 
 saw mobbed, insulted, and finally thrust into prison, 
 from which he was delivered only by death. In 
 him was fulfilled those words of the prophet, 
 "When thou shalt cease to oppress, then shall 
 they oppress thee ; and when thou shalt cease to 
 deal treacherously, then shall they deal treacher- 
 ously with thee !" I could never get over the way 
 Mr. Prynne treated the old man. 'Twas not like a 
 Christian nor a gentleman, however great had
 
 The Preamble. 7 
 
 been his wrongs, and no one can deny that they 
 were bitter enough. 
 
 Then came that terrible event, the death of the 
 king. My husband never approved of Cromwell's 
 course in that matter, though he said, and as I be- 
 lieve truly, that there was a time when Cromwell 
 would have saved him, had the king only been 
 true to himself. But there alas ! was his great fail- 
 ing sorrowfully acknowledged by friends as well as 
 foes. With all his virtues, the king knew neither 
 truth nor gratitude. His want of the first he called 
 kingcraft, like his father before him : and as for 
 the last, I do believe he felt himself raised too far 
 above ordinary mortals to owe them anything. If 
 they served him, even to the laying down of their 
 lives, it was well they did no more than their duty. 
 If they did not, then were they rebels and traitors. 
 But he hath gone to his account, and I will not 
 judge him. My lord adhered to him always, and 
 afterward went abroad to the court of the young 
 king ; Walter taking the charge of his estates and 
 sending him. money. 
 
 Since the Restoration my husband has lived in 
 retirement, though he has had more than one offer 
 of office and preferment ; but he loves this quiet 
 country life, and so do I. 
 
 My lord is back at the hall with the second
 
 8 The Preamble. 
 
 lady and her children and his own boys, and we 
 are all good friends. She is an excellent woman, 
 but no more like my own dear lady than a cabbage 
 is like a lily. Yet we are good friends always, and 
 she is very kind to me and my children. 
 
 I feel that my time is short, and that I must 
 soon leave my dear husband and children. I pray 
 my precious girls to receive this volume as a 
 legacy from their mother, and to remember her 
 last words that the path of duty, though its way 
 be hard and thorny, is always the path of safety 
 the path which leads to honor here and happiness 
 hereafter. " To do his duty in that state of life 'to 
 which it hath pleased God to call him," is the sum 
 and substance of a Christian's work. A poor 
 plowman or milk-maid can do as much with God's 
 help, and the greatest king on earth can do no 
 more. 
 
 MARGARET CORBET.
 
 LADY BETTY'S GOVERNESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Match 1, 1637, 
 
 it is really all settled, and I am to leave 
 this little parsonage, where I have spent 
 all my days hitherto, and go to St&nton 
 Court to live among lords and ladies and 
 to be companion or governess to a poor little 
 hunchbacked girl. I wonder how I shall like it ? 
 However, as Felicia says, that is the least part of 
 the matter. Felicia need not have put it so 
 bluntly, I think. That is always her way, but it 
 does not help to make matters easier. As old 
 Esther says, if she wanted to hammer a nail into a 
 board, she would begin head foremost. She 
 thinks, forsooth, it is all because she is so very 
 sincere ; but I don't see that she is any more so 
 than other folks. I am sure, when she tells mother, 
 after she and I have had a quarrel, she manages 
 to turn things to her own advantage as well as 
 anybody I ever saw. Mother understands her 
 pretty well, that is one comfort. 
 
 (0)
 
 io Lady Belly s Governess ; or, 
 
 It really does not matter much, however, wliether 
 I like it or not. We cannot all stay at home, 
 that is clear, especially now that my dear father is 
 gone, and we must leave the dear old parsonage 
 for the cottage at the other end of the village, 
 which will hardly hold us all. I don't mind leaving 
 home so much, now that homcno longer means this 
 queer old pile of stone, all angles and corners and 
 outside stairs, and all overgrown with ivy and 
 traveller's joy, and what not. I don't think I can 
 ever take root in any place again, even though it 
 were far finer than this ; and the cottage is by no 
 means so pleasant, though very good for a cottage. 
 
 But some of us must earn our own bread, that is 
 plain. Poor Dick is doing so already, with all the 
 cheerfulness in the world, as clerk to old Master 
 Smith, the great stationer in Chester. He never 
 complains, though all his hopes and projects are 
 disappointed, and why should I ? Felicia is older 
 and stronger than I am, 'tis true ; but then, as 
 mother says to me : " "Who would ever live with 
 her that could help it ? She has such an unhappy 
 temper !" So they all say. When / get vexed 
 and in a fury, I have a lad temper. That is all 
 the difference. As long as I can remember, every 
 one in the house has given way to Felicia, on 
 account of her " unhappy temper," but I don't see 
 that it makes her any happier. 
 
 " Felicia !" Never was any one more completely 
 misnamed. That is the worst of these significant 
 names which people are so fond of giving now-
 
 Tne Corbet Chronicles. \ \ 
 
 a-days. A child is named Grace, Mercy, or Peaco, 
 and Grace grows up more awkward than a cow, 
 Mercy takes delight in tormenting, and Peace 
 keeps the whole house in an uproar from morning 
 till night. 
 
 I would not for the world say anything to reflect 
 upon my honored father, especially now that he is 
 gone from us ; but it does seem a pity that he 
 should have risked all his savings for so many 
 years, and all mother's little fortune, in such an 
 adventure as that ship to the Spice Islands. 'Tis 
 true, no doubt, that some great fortunes have been 
 made in that way, like that of Mr Gunning, in 
 Bristol ; but I believe it is also true, that for one 
 ship that comes home laden with pepper, mace, 
 and nutmegs, at least four go to the bottom or are 
 taken by pirates. 
 
 Master Smith says, however, that no such wild 
 scheme is got up, but the foremost to rush into it, 
 and risk their little alls, are masters and fellows 
 in colleges, country clergymen, and widows with 
 a little property just the people who have the 
 least chance of understanding the matter. I will 
 say that dear mother was as much against it as 
 she could ever be against any scheme of my 
 father's ; but he was so sanguine, and he ever 
 thought little of the opinion of women on any 
 subject. 
 
 But there is no use in going over all that now. 
 "What is done is done. What is to do, is to make 
 the best struggle we can to live decently and
 
 12 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 honestly, keep out of debt, and I don't know 
 what else, I ani sure. 
 
 March 3. 
 
 Dick is come home, by favor of Master Smith, 
 to spend my last Sunday with us. I must say he 
 is very kind to Dick. Indeed, every one has been 
 very kind to us so far, even the new rector. 
 'Twas he got me my place at Stanton Court, where 
 I am to go the day after to-morrow. To-day we 
 have a new instance of his goodness. He allows 
 mother to take what furniture she chooses from 
 the parsonage, as he means to replenish it 
 entirely. That will be a great help toward fitting 
 up the cottage. Indeed, I hardly know what w r e 
 should have done without it, for mother hath but 
 little of her own, and most of the furniture here 
 belongs to the house, though my father had* it all 
 refitted and repaired more than once. I wish I 
 could stay here to help them move, but that is 
 impossible. I am to go southward with the new 
 rector and his servants, and I may not have such a 
 good opportunity again in a long time. 
 
 I have showed Dick what I have written. I do 
 so sometimes, though no one else knows that I 
 keep a journal. Dick has known of it from the 
 first. It was he that put me upon keeping it and 
 gave me this large fair blank book. Before that I 
 used to write upon such scraps as I could find. 
 
 "When he came to that " I don't know what 
 else," Dick demurred. "You Lave left out the
 
 Tiie Corbet Chronicles. 13 
 
 gist of the whole matter Peggy," said he. " Tour 
 summiDg up is like the playbill Master Smith told 
 me of 'The play of Hamlet with the part of 
 Hamlet omitted.' " 
 
 " What have I left out?" I asked. 
 
 " Tell me, Peggy, what do you suppose we were 
 made for?" said he. "Why were we put into this 
 world, and assigned certain parts and duties 
 therein ? Who has put us here, and for what ? " 
 
 " Our Heavenly Father has put us here, of 
 course ;" I replied : " but Dick, if you ask me 
 why, I am not sure that I have an answer 
 ready." 
 
 " Do you remember when our Lord shall come 
 m His glory and all the holy angels with Him, 
 what will be the invitation to those on His right 
 hand?" 
 
 " ' Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the 
 kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of 
 the world,' " I repeated. 
 
 " Then, sweetheart, since such a kingdom is pre- 
 pared for us a kingdom of Everlasting Life does 
 it not seem likely that we are placed here as a 
 school of preparation for that glorious heritage ? 
 And looking at it in that light, may it not give 
 us a key whereby to understand at least some of 
 the tasks and exercises which are set as in that 
 same school?" 
 
 " I suppose it may," said I. 
 
 Dick said no more. It is not his way to say a 
 great deal, and perhaps that may be ono reason
 
 14 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 why liis words dwell in my mind and I cannot get 
 rid of them if I would. I wish I could think and 
 feel as he does on these subjects. It is the only 
 point on which we do not fully sympathize. Of 
 course I believe in the Christian religion, and say 
 my prayers night and morning. I fear God, and I 
 wish I could honestly say that I love Him ; but I 
 cannot think of Him as Dick does, as a loving 
 Father, ever watching over us for good, ordering 
 all things for the best, and always ready to hear 
 our requests and sympathize with our troubles. 
 It does seem to me as though He were very far off 
 too far to see or care for all the little joys and 
 sorrows which make up the lives of every-day 
 people. 
 
 To-day we are beginning to pull up and pull 
 down, and the house puts on an aspect of mourn- 
 ing. I had been working as hard as I could all 
 the morning at mending the old tapestry hanging 
 (and dusty, disagreeable work it is), when mother 
 came in, and I called her to see the new head I 
 had added to Goliah. 
 
 " You have made him as good as new," says my 
 mother. 
 
 Dick, who had been helping us, came and looked 
 over my shoulder to admire the truculent aspect 
 of my giant. 
 
 "Your work gives one a new notion of the 
 courage of David," said he. "You have made 
 Goliah a regular Cornish giant, like Cormoran and 
 Blunderbore in Jack's story-book."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. i5 
 
 " Unluckily David himself is not very much hand- 
 somer," I rejoined. " I must say I do not much 
 like this fashion of putting pictures from Holy 
 Scripture upon tapestry and Dutch tiles, and the 
 like. One gets odd notions from them. I shall 
 all my life have no other idea of Saint Peter than 
 that I gained, before I can clearly remember, from 
 the painted window in the church." 
 
 "Peggy is growing quite a Puritan lately," said 
 Felicia, who was working upon another part of the 
 hangings. " She objects to the painted windows 
 in the church." 
 
 "Not to all of them," said I. "Only to the 
 chancel window, and I do think that is profane. 
 I cannot bear to look at it, since I knew for whom 
 that old man in the clouds was intended. Surely 
 if the second commandment means anything" 
 
 " Don't you suppose the good man who gave 
 that window to the church ever so many hundred 
 years ago, knew as much about the meaning of the 
 commandments as you do ?" interrupted Felicia. 
 
 " Probably not," said Dick, as I did not answer. 
 ' It is very likely the poor man had never seen, in 
 all his life, a perfect copy of the Holy Scripture." 
 
 " And, moreover, I do not think that anything 
 painted upon a window can be so beautiful as the 
 sky and the clouds seen through it," said I. "I 
 admit that the colors in the old window are very 
 wonderful and beautiful, but I think the sky more 
 beautiful still, and besides I like to see out." 
 
 " Every one does not care to bo staring abroad
 
 1 6 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 in service time," retorted Felicia. " But 3-011 are 
 a regular Puritan. I advise you to keep your 
 notions to yourself at Stanton Court, or you will 
 soon get into trouble. The lady will not care to 
 Lave her daughter's head filled with such fancies/' 
 
 " I trust my daughter will have sufficient mod- 
 esty to prevent her intruding her opinions on 
 anybody, whether at 'home or abroad," said my 
 mother, not without emphasis. 
 
 "I dare say she will soon learn it," said Felicia, 
 who is the only one in the family that ever an- 
 swers mother back. " Poor relations and waiting 
 gentlewomen get plenty of snubbing." 
 
 Whenever any one checks Felicia in the least, 
 she always begins to talk about poor relations. I 
 do honestly think that she presumes upon her 
 position as a dependent, knowing that mother will 
 never utterly lose patience with her, because she 
 is my dear father's youngest sister. She has been 
 in one of her worst moods all day, and nothing 
 pleases her. She found fault with the dinner, and 
 snubbed me and the children, till mother at last 
 roused herself and gave her such a setting down 
 as reduced her to silence and sulks for the rest of 
 the meal. 
 
 After dinner I was going to sit down tc my 
 work again, but mother stopped me. 
 
 " No, my dear. This is your last Saturday at 
 borne, perhaps for a long time, and you shall not 
 spend it all over the needle. Do you and Dick go 
 out together and have a fine long walk. 'Tis a
 
 Tlie Corbet Chronicles. 17 
 
 pleasant afternoon, and you can visit all jour old 
 haunts before dark." 
 
 "But then you and Felicia will have all the 
 work to do," I objected, though my heart leaped 
 at the thought of one more long solitary wall: 
 with Dick a thing I had hardly dared to hope 
 for. 
 
 " Oh, never mind me," said Felicia, in a voice 
 which trembled with rage. / am nobody only fit 
 for a drudge and slave. Nobody cares for me, or 
 thinks of me, now that my poor dear brother is 
 gone." And with that she began to cry. 
 
 Mother checked me as I began to speak, and 
 sent me for my hood and cloak. When I came 
 back, she met me at the door. 
 
 " It is best not to answer Felicia when she is in 
 one of these moods," said she. " Poor thing, she 
 suffers more than any one else from her unhappy 
 temper." 
 
 I am not so sure of that. I do think she finds 
 a certain enjoyment in being miserable and mak- 
 ing others so. It is rather too bad in her, thus to 
 try to spoil Dick's holiday, but she was always 
 jealous of his fondness for me. However, I said 
 nothing, of course, and Dick and I were soon 
 out in the lane. We meant to go and see the 
 old people at the almshouses, and then across 
 the deer-park to the spring, and so home by the 
 church. 
 
 We found Goody Crump sitting up reading her 
 Bible, as usual, with everything tidy and pleasant 
 
 2
 
 1 8 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 about her; but she complained sadly of the 
 weather. 
 
 " Why, Goody, I thought it seasonable weather 
 for March !" said I. "You know they say a peck 
 of dust in March is worth a king's ransom." 
 
 " And so it is to the farmers, especially since the 
 winter hath been so wet," replied the old woman ; 
 " but these east winds rack my poor old bones 
 sadly. " However," she added, with her pleasant 
 smile, " I reckon, children, 'tis the old bones which 
 are in fault more than the weather. I dare say 
 the east wind doesn't trouble you." 
 
 "How old are you, Goody ?" I ventured to ask. 
 
 " I was ninety-eight my last birthday, my dear. 
 I was a good big girl when the great Queen 
 Elizabeth came to the throne, and I well remember 
 when I was a little thing, like your Jacky, seeing 
 the fires lighted which were to bum two poor men 
 at the stake, for reading their English Bibles. Ah ! 
 children, you don't know what it is to live in 
 troublous times. But those were grand days, too 
 grand days !" she repeated, and her old face did so 
 light up as she spoke. " 'T\vas a new world, as it 
 might be, what with the discoveries by sea and 
 land, and fighting the Spaniards, and the spread 
 of the True Gospel all over the land. Why, 
 children, I remember when a copy of Holy Scrip- 
 ture, was like treasure hid in a field. They that 
 had it, kept it with jealous care, and resorted to it 
 with fear and trembling, yet with heart-felt joy, 
 knowing that it as good as sealed their death-
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 19 
 
 warrant if found in their hands. Then came the 
 days of Queen Elizabeth, when we dwelt under our 
 own vines and fig-trees, as it were, and none to 
 make us afraid. Then the ships went away beyond 
 seas. My master he sailed with Captain Drake, 
 as was the first Englishman who went round the 
 world sailed away, and left me a six mouths wife, 
 to tend his widowed mother, that was ever the 
 best of mothers to me. Eh dear ! 'Twas weary 
 waiting and never knowing whether he were dead 
 or alive. My oldest child was two years old and 
 more, before it ever saw its father's face. But 
 back he came at last, and brought what kept us 
 comfortable for many a long year. But all is 
 gone now the gold, and the brave sailor lad, and 
 all my fair children and I shall soon follow. 
 These be good and quiet times, children, but not 
 like those days." 
 
 " None so quiet, either ; what with star-chamber 
 prosecutions, and fines, and the ship-money, and 
 the troubles in Ireland," said Dick, who hears all 
 the news, being as it were at head-quarters in 
 Master Smith's shop. " There is trouble enough, 
 both at home and abroad, and many even fear a 
 civil war." 
 
 " I trust I shall not live to see it," said Goody 
 Crump, "Few and evil no, but I'll not say that, 
 either !" said she, catching herself up. " 'Tis true, 
 I have seen many and sad changes, but I've had 
 my share of happiness, too ; and 'tis no small 
 thing to have such a snug harbor in which to end
 
 2O Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 my days at last, with tlie church near by, and kind 
 friends to close my eyes and see me decently laid 
 under ground. No ! no ! I've naught to complain 
 of. Little I thought once to end my days in an 
 almshouse, and now I am thankful for the alms- 
 house itself." 
 
 "Then it does not make you unhappy to be 
 dependent, as some folks say ?" said I, thinking of 
 Felicia. The old woman smiled again. 
 
 " Bless your dear heart, no ! We are all de- 
 pendent, child. One almost as much as another, 
 for that matter." 
 
 "You mean upon God," said I. 
 
 " Aye, and upon one another. If not for bread 
 yet for pleasant looks, and kind words, and little 
 acts of service, such as go to make our lives happy, 
 I have done for others in my time, and now others 
 do for me. I did not grudge my service, and no 
 more do they grudge theirs. And all comes from 
 God, first and last, and may be given again to Him 
 if we will. When I lived with my mistress do\vn 
 in Devonshire, and up to London, I had many 
 times to put up with whims and fancies, and hard 
 words. Not from her, though she was ever a 
 sweet-tempered lady but from others of the 
 family. But I said to myself, ' 'Tis all in the 
 day's work,' and strove to take all cheerfully." 
 
 " Aye, that is it !" said Dick. " ' 'Tis aU in the 
 day's work,' and what matter, so we but serve our 
 Master faithfully, and are rewarded of Him at the 
 last."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 2 1 
 
 " How cheerful Danie Crump is," said I, when 
 we had finished our walk, and were lingering in 
 the church, looking at our father's pulpit, and his 
 tablet on the chancel wall. " I wish I were like 
 her." 
 
 " You do not wish you were ninety-eight years 
 old, do you ?" asked rny brother. 
 
 " Why, I don't know yes ! If I were as ready 
 to go as she, I think I would like to be as old. 
 I always do envy good old people, they are so 
 near home." 
 
 " We none of us know how near home we may 
 be," said Richard. 
 
 I assented, thinking of my poor father. Never 
 had he seemed stronger or more sanguine than 
 on the very day he had that fatal seizure. 
 
 " Bat, Peggy, my love, Why not take the old wo- 
 man's motto for your own ?" continued Richard. 
 "Is it not a good one? '"Tis all in the day's 
 work !' " 
 
 " Can you take it, Dick ?" I asked, in wonder. 
 "Standing here before my father's pulpit, in 
 which you so ardently hoped to preach, can you 
 be content to say ' It is all in the day's work' ?" 
 
 " Yes, I can, Peggy !" replied Richard, firmly, 
 though I saw his eyelash twinkle. "Standing 
 here even here I can say, ' God's will be done !' " 
 
 " "Well, I can't !" said I, passionately enough. 
 " It does seem very hard to me, and I can't 
 help it !" 
 
 " That is because you do not consider well the
 
 22 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 nature of the service, Peggy. Have I not vowed 
 to fight manfully under Christ's banner against 
 sin, the world, and the devil, and continue His 
 faithful soldier and servant unto my life's end ? 
 A soldier does not choose the nature of his ser- 
 vice. 'Tis the very essence of a good soldier that 
 he hath no will of his own, but goes cheerfully 
 wherever he is sent by his commander, whether to 
 lead a forlorn hope, or to stand sentinel at a 
 distance from the field, or to work at an entrench- 
 ment, whether to die in a place where all 
 men shall see and honor him, or in some obscure 
 service, where no man shall so much as hear 
 of him. It is all the same to him, so he does 
 his work well. But Christ's soldier hath this 
 advantage, that he never can perish forgotten and 
 unknown. He fights, conquers, and dies, if need 
 be, under- the eye of the Captain of his salvation, 
 and when that Captain shall appear, he will re- 
 ceive a crown which fadeth not away. And so I 
 say I can serve Him as well in Master Smith's 
 shop, as here in my father's pulpit ; and though I 
 don't deny that it is a great cross to give up the 
 thought of taking orders, yet I mean to try to 
 bear it cheerfully, and say, through all, 'God's 
 will be done!'" 
 
 " Amen !" said a deep and sweet voice behind 
 us, which sounded so like my father's that both 
 Dick and I started and turned round in a hurry. 
 There stood a grave and comely gentleman, a dig- 
 nified clergyman, by his dress. He had a most
 
 Tlie Corbet Chronicles. 23 
 
 reverend and noble air, but his face was full of 
 kindliness, not without a shrewd suspicion of humor 
 and even of sarcasm. 
 
 " I crave your pardon, my 3 T oung ones, for lis- 
 tening to your conversation," said he, with a cour- 
 teous air ; " but I caught a few words, and was 
 really too much interested to interrupt you. I 
 conclude," he added, glancing at my mourning 
 dress, " that you are the children of the late excel- 
 ent rector of this parish. I knew him at college, 
 and can see some resemblance in your faces. 
 But may I ask you, my young friend," he said, 
 turning to Richard, " why you give up the 
 thought of taking orders?" 
 
 " Surel} r , sir," answered Dick, " it is no secret. 
 My father died poor, and I have no means of 
 gaining the necessary education." 
 
 "But there are places however, we will not 
 talk longer here, since the air is something damp," 
 said the strange gentleman, interrupting him- 
 self. " My friend Mr. Carey hath made me free of 
 his study, where there is a fire, and we can talk 
 there with more comfort and propriety." 
 
 As he spoke, he opened the door of the little 
 vaulted room next the vestry, which my father 
 had caused to be fitted up as a study. He had 
 spent a great deal of money upon it, for dear 
 father knew not how to save when he had the gold 
 to spend. 
 
 The stranger invited us to sit, and placed a 
 chair for me, as if I had been some great lady.
 
 24 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 " I was about to say," ho went on, " that there 
 are positions at both the universities at which a 
 scholar can get on with little or no expense. I 
 have some little interest, and I doubt not I could 
 use it for your advantage, if on trial it should 
 appear that you have a true call to preach the 
 gospel." 
 
 I saw Dick's cheek flash, and something seemed 
 to swell in his throat. As for me, I did not know 
 whether I were dreaming or awake, so bright a ray 
 of hope seemed to beam from this door which the 
 strange gentleman had opened. It was but for 
 a moment, and then Dick answered, quietly : 
 
 " I thank you, honored sir, from the bottom of 
 my heart, for your kind offer, but I must not accept 
 it, at least not now. My mother is poor, and hath 
 younger children to educate. She needs all the 
 help which both my sister and I can give her, and 
 for that reason we must both go into the world to 
 earn our own living. If the call I feel is indeed 
 from above, I doubt not that He who gives it will 
 find a way to accomplish His own ends ; and I 
 should be disposed gravely to doubt its reality, 
 should it lead me away from my duty toward my 
 mother." 
 
 So here was my door closed again, and that by 
 the very person for whom it had been opened. The 
 tears came into my eyes, and I had much ado to 
 keep myself from sobbing. The stranger rose 
 and walked to the window in silence, and I feared 
 that Dick had given him great offence ; but he
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 25 
 
 presently came back again, and his face was calm 
 and benign as ever. 
 
 " What you say hath much reason in it," said 
 he, addressing himself to Richard; "but would 
 not your mother be willing to make the sacrifice ?' 
 
 " She would, without doubt ; and therefore it must 
 not be so much as mentioned to her," answered 
 Dick, decidedly. " No, Margaret," for he read the 
 entreaty in my face : " not so much as mentioned. 
 My dear mother is growing old, and it is no longer 
 fit that she should sacrifice to her children. Where- 
 fore, pardon me, honored sir, if I decline, with many 
 thanks, your generous offer." 
 
 "No pardon is needed when no offence hath 
 been committed or taken," said the stranger. 
 " But, my son, I am loth that such an one as you 
 seem to be should be lost to the Church, which 
 now, as much as at any time in her history, needs 
 zealous and faithful ministers. Therefore I would 
 entreat you not to dismiss the thought of taking 
 orders, but, as it were, to put it away in your mind 
 for some future time. Believe me, you may still 
 be preparing for the sacred office. In your 
 master's shop, in the street, and at the fireside, you 
 may be gaining a knowledge of 'men. 'Tis a kind 
 of knowledge which is worth more to a pastor 
 than any which can be learned out of books, and 
 one in which we college feUows are apt to be 
 deficient. Do you have any time to yourself to 
 read or study?" 
 
 " Yes sir," replied Dick. " My master is very
 
 26 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 kind in that respect, as in every other. I have the 
 most of my evenings." 
 
 "I will, if you please, set down a list of books 
 for your reading. Many of them, no doubt, will be 
 found in your master's shop, and for the others, I 
 dare say you may find them here," he said, looking 
 round on my dear father's books, which have not 
 yet been removed. " On my word, my friend has 
 a fine collection." 
 
 "These are my father's books," said Eichard. 
 He seemed as if he would have added more, but 
 paused and gazed steadfastly at the fire. The 
 stranger glanced at him for a moment, and 
 then, taking a sheet of paper from the table, he 
 began to write, now and then glancing up at Dick 
 or me. For myself, I sat as mum as a mouse, 
 wondering more and more what was to be the end 
 of it all. The stranger was no common man, I felt 
 snre, but I would not even give a guess as to who 
 he might be. Presently he folded the paper and 
 gave it to Dick. 
 
 " There," said he, " I have written down a list 
 of books, according to the best of my judgment, 
 which you can study at your leisure. Meantime 
 let me impress upon you the importance of a close 
 daily walk with God, which is the best prepara- 
 tion of all. Drink daily and deeply of the fountain 
 of all grace, by resorting to God in humble prayer. 
 Be diligent in your daily calling, and you m ay bo 
 sure that a blessing will rest upon you !" 
 
 " And you, my fair maiden," said he, turning to
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 27 
 
 me with a kindly smile. " So you are to make your 
 first flight from the nest, and go out into tho world 
 to seek your fortune !" 
 
 " I suppose so, sir," I replied. 
 
 " 'Tis a hard necessity," said he, gravely. "The 
 best place for a girl is by her mother's side till she 
 hath a household of her own. But where are you 
 going? Tell me all about it." His manner was so 
 kind, and made me think so of my dear father, that 
 I choked fora moment; but recovering myself,! told 
 him that I was going to wait upon, and be in some 
 sort, I supposed, a governess to my Lady Elizabeth 
 Stanton of Stanton Court in Devonshire. 
 
 He looked very grave. 
 
 " A hard place a hard place ! " he muttered. 
 " An honest service would have been better." 
 
 Then, catching my eye : " My child, you are 
 going to a place where both your temper and your 
 principles are likely to be put to the test. I would 
 not discourage you, but ' forewarned is forearmed,' 
 they say, though I have not always found it so. 
 Are you, like your brother, furnished with the 
 armor of a soldier of Christ?" 
 
 " I am afraid not," said I. 
 
 " But why not, sweetheart ? Do 3^011 not need it 
 as much ?" 
 
 " I need it even more, if that were possible," 
 said I ; " for my temper is not naturally as good 
 as Richard's ; but I know not how it is, these things 
 are not as real to me as to him. I have not the 
 faith which he
 
 28 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 "Well, well. You are but young. But, iny 
 child, you are now going among strangers, into the 
 midst of trials, vexations, and temptations of 
 which you know nothing. Let me beg of you to 
 pray your Heavenly Father to give you- that per- 
 fect trust in Him, and that consecration to His 
 service, which alone can preserve you in the perils 
 of the way. Remember that you are Christ's 
 vowed servant and soldier, as well as your brother ; 
 and must fight manfully under his banner. 'Tis 
 the Christian parodox that peace is found only in 
 warfare !" he added, smiling. 
 
 " I cannot make Peggy understand that," said 
 Eicharcl ; and I saw by his using my pet name, how 
 much he felt at ease with the strange clergyman, 
 for he seldom called me anything but Margaret 
 before strangers. " Her only notion of peace con- 
 sists in having nothing to disturb her." 
 
 " Aye, but that is peace never to be found iu 
 this world. I am glad your sister is going into 
 Devonshire. I am sometimes at Stanton Court 
 myself, and may be able to befriend her. My dear 
 child," said he, turning to me, "will you make 
 me one promise ?" 
 
 " Yes sir," I replied, feeling that I might safely 
 do so. 
 
 " Then promise me solemnly that you will never 
 let a day pass without reading some portion of 
 Holy Scripture, be it never so short, and praying 
 for God's blessing on yourself and all that you do. 
 Bring all to this test, and permit yourself no
 
 Tlie Corbet Chronicles. 29 
 
 employment that will not endure it. "Will you 
 promise me this?" 
 
 I did so. 
 
 "That is well!" said he. "I will send you a 
 little book which will perhaps help you to under- 
 stand better what you read. Remember now that 
 you have promised." 
 
 " And she will keep her word, I am sure," said 
 Richard. " But may we venture to ask who it is 
 that hath been so laud?" 
 
 The stranger smiled. " My name is Joseph Hall, 
 and I live in Exeter," said he, simply, yet with the 
 air of being mightily diverted at something. 
 
 I saw Dick rise up hastily with a deep blush, and 
 while I was trying to thiuk what could be the 
 matter, the door opened. 
 
 " I crave your pardon, my Lord, for leaving you 
 so long alone," said Mr. Carey, and then he 
 stopped,, as if he were amazed at seeing us in such 
 company. For myself, I felt as if all the blood in 
 my body rushed to my face, when it flashed across 
 me that the stranger was no other than Bishop 
 Hall of Exeter, one of the most learned men in 
 England. I might have guessed before, for I had 
 heard that Mr. Carey the new rector was nephew 
 to the Bishop of Exeter. 
 
 " I have not been alone, as you see, nephew," 
 said the Bishop. " I encountered these young peo- 
 ple in the church, and having played the eaves- 
 dropper to a part of their discourse, I could do no 
 less than ask them in here to finish it. Go now,
 
 3O Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 my children ! I shall perhaps see you again ; and 
 you, Margaret, since that is your name, remember 
 what you have promised." 
 
 I was not likely to forget it. It is not every day 
 that one talks freely with so great a man. When 
 we got outside, we were startled to see how low 
 the sun was, and hastened home with little talk by 
 the way. At another time I should have met a 
 reproof for being out of bounds so late ; but dear 
 mother is one who knows when to relax the reins 
 and when to draw them tightly. She had even 
 kept our supper hot by the fire. 
 
 "Have you heard who is to preach for us to- 
 morrow ?" asked Felicia. " No less a person than 
 the Bishop of Exeter, Mr. Carey's uncle." 
 
 "We have seen him," I replied, not without a 
 mischievous enjoyment of the amazement in her 
 face and mother's. " It was he who kept us talk- 
 ing so long in the vault room." 
 
 Felicia looked from one to the other as if she 
 suspected a plan to mystify her. Dick hastened 
 to relate a part of what had passed at the church. 
 Dear mother was much pleased, especially when 
 Dick said that the Bishop had advised him not to 
 give up the thought of being a minister, but to 
 continue his studies as he had opportunity. 
 
 Felicia smiled scornfully. 
 
 " I do not see any tiling either very great or very 
 good in that," said she. ".I dare say the Bishop, if 
 he were so minded, might easily procure Dick some 
 place, where he might earn thrice as much as he is
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 31 
 
 ever like to do with Master Smith, and without 
 the work. Court favor can do a great deal more 
 than that." 
 
 " If all tales be true, my Lord does not enjoy 
 much of court favor," said Richard. "I have 
 heard that he is no favorite with the archbishop 
 who rules all about the king now-a-days." 
 
 " I cannot help feeling, however, as though the 
 children had made a valuable friend," said my 
 mother. 
 
 " And do you really suppose he will ever think 
 of them again, or that he will even know Peggy, if 
 by chance he meets her at Stanton Court ?" asked 
 Felicia, with her exasperating superior smile, as if 
 she pitied my mother's weakness. " That is not 
 the way with great people, I fancy." 
 
 " I suppose there may be a difference in great 
 people as well as in little ones," observed my 
 mother. 
 
 " I fancy they are much alike in that respect," 
 said Felicia. 
 
 ''Do you judge others by yourself, Felicia?'' I 
 could not help asking. " Suppose you were sud- 
 denly to make a great match, or to inherit a great 
 fortune, would you forget all about us, and never 
 come near us ?" 
 
 " If I did, I should have a good excuse," returned 
 Felicia, sharply. " To you at least, Peggy, I should 
 owe no debt of kindness." 
 
 I might have said more, but I saw Dick look at
 
 32 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 me, so I bit my lip and was silent. I dare say she 
 would, though. 
 
 "When I went to my room I remembered my 
 promise, and took my Bible to read. The first 
 words my eye fell upon were these : " Take my 
 yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek 
 and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest to your 
 souls." 
 
 I wonder if it is a want of meekness and lowli- 
 ness which makes me so easily disturbed? I 
 should not wonder.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 March 6. 
 
 EEE I ain at home, if the cottage can bo 
 called home. I have not written a word 
 for a week, and how many things have hap- 
 'pened! In the first place, Felicia has leffc 
 us for good. My words to her were like a proph- 
 ecy, for if she hath not the great fortune already, 
 she is like to have it. An aunt of my father's, 
 passing through Chester, came to see us, and she 
 hath earned Felicia off with her to London, where 
 she is to make her home henceforth, and be as a 
 daughter to Mrs. "Willson such is the lady's name. 
 She is a widow, childless, and very rich ; so if 
 Felicia can but please her aunt, her fortune is 
 secure. I have my doubts whether Felicia can 
 keep her temper in check, even when her interest 
 is concerned ; but a change may do much for her. 
 At any rate she is gone, and it is wonderful what 
 a vacancy she leaves behind her, and how freely 
 wo all seem to breathe without her. I can't help 
 
 3 (33)
 
 34 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 thinking that dear mother lias grown younger ; and 
 for my own part, I feel much more comfortable 
 about leaving home, now that mother hath only 
 Jacky and the twins to keep in order and provide 
 for. 
 
 I must say Mrs. Willson has been very liberal 
 to us. "When she heard that I was going to 
 Stanton Court, nothing would serve but she must 
 look over my clothes ; and having done so, she 
 insisted on taking me with her to Chester, and 
 furnishing me with two new gowns and petticoats 
 complete, with shoes, gloves, kerchiefs, and hoods, 
 and all things answerable, the finest I ever had, 
 though all black, of course. I would have remon- 
 strated at the expense, but she shortly, though 
 kindly, too, bid mo hold my tongue. 
 
 " May I not do what I will with mine own ?" 
 said she ; " and if I choose to bestow a little of nay 
 superfluity on my brother's grandchildren, why 
 should you grudge me the pleasure ? Learn to be 
 obliged with grace and humility, chick, and so 
 oblige others in your turn." 
 
 I held my tongue, but I was pleased too with the 
 words, and the thought passed across my mind : 
 "If this good woman should adopt me, I could 
 make her much happier than Felicia is like to 
 do." 
 
 Aunt Willson did not confine her bounty to me. 
 She bought mother a gown and cloak, which sho 
 needs, and new frocks, beside toys and sweets for 
 the little ones. We then went to Master Smith '.s
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 35 
 
 shop, where she purchased for me what I value 
 more than all the fine clothes, namely, a handsome 
 Bible. 1 have never possessed one of my own be- 
 fore, and this is truly splendid, being bound iu 
 red with silver clasps. Aunt Willson had a deal 
 of talk with good Master Smith and his wife, and 
 before we left, she took Dick and me aside. 
 
 " I want to see you young ones together," said 
 she. " I desire to explain somewhat to you, for 
 though young folks should not sit in judgment on 
 their elders, I can see that you both have sharp 
 wits, and I have a mind you should understand 
 me. I dare say you, Richard, are wondering why 
 I should choose Felicia for my companion, instead 
 of one of the little girls, or Peggy here." 
 
 " I confess I did thiuk of it," said Richard, as 
 Aunt Willson seemed to pause for a reply. 
 
 " Well, then, I'll tell you," said she. "I can see 
 as far into a mill-stone as another, aud I can see 
 that Felicia plague take the name, it sounds like 
 a stage-play is one by herself among you and is 
 no help to any one. She hath just the disposition 
 of her father, my poor brother, who was wont all 
 his life long to take the poker by the hot end." 
 
 I could not help laughing. It was such an apt 
 illustration. 
 
 " I see plainly that she is no help to your poor 
 mother, and also that she could never go out and 
 earn her living like you and Peggy here," continued 
 Aunt Willson. " The fact is, children, she is just 
 one of those who seem born to exercise the for-
 
 36 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 bearance and patience of their friends. The best 
 we can do is to make a means of grace of them." 
 
 " That don't seem to be a very flattering use to 
 which to put our fellow-creatures !" said I. 
 
 " 'Tis all we are any of us fit for, at times, 
 chick." 
 
 " But do you really think," I asked, " that wo 
 have any right to think so to think that people 
 are made bad only for means of grace to us ?" 
 
 " By no means, child !" replied my aunt. " That 
 were spiritual pride, and presumption worse than 
 that of the Pharisees. But we must be either 
 better or worse for the faults of the people we live 
 with. If we learn from them patience, forbear- 
 ance, and watchfulness not to give any just 
 offence, we are the better ; and whatsoever makes 
 us better, is a means of grace, is it not, sweet- 
 heart?" 
 
 I confessed that she was right ; thinking at the 
 same time that Felicia had been anything biit a 
 means of grace to me. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying," continued my Aunt 
 "Willson, "as I have no children to be plagued 
 by her, and as I have a pretty even temper of 
 my own, besides a good strong will, and plenty of 
 money why I will even take the poor thing in 
 hand, and do the best I can with her. But mind, 
 children, not a word of this to Felicia herself. 
 Lot her think, if she will, that she is doing me a 
 great favor. I am glad I came this way, though 
 it was a toilsome journey. I shall think of you all
 
 The. Corbet Chronicles. 37 
 
 with pleasure ; and though we may never meet 
 again, you will hear from me. You are going into 
 a hard place, Peggy, but keep up a good heart, put 
 your trust above, be faithful to God and your 
 mother, avoid all mean and little practises of tat- 
 tling, eavesdropping, and the like, mind your own 
 business, bo kind to all, but beware of intimacies, 
 and when troubles and vexations come, as doubtless 
 they will, keep a brave heart, put a good face on 
 it, and be not discouraged. ' 'Tis all in the day's 
 work!'" 
 
 " That is Richard's motto !" said I. 
 
 " And do you make it yours ; though mind, chick, 
 all depends on the master for whom the work is 
 done. But we must soon be jogging. Dick, this 
 is for thine own pocket," and she slipped into bis 
 hand a purse I had seen her buy, and in which 
 she had put some gold and silver pieces out 
 of her own. "Now do you two gossip a bit 
 while I say farewell to our good host and 
 hostess !" 
 
 "Is she not a good old woman?" 1 said to 
 Dick, after we had looked into the purse, and I 
 had told him of aunt's kindness to us all. 
 
 " She is indeed, and I thank her with all my 
 heart, specially for all she has done for you and 
 mother. 'Tis curious, is it not, that we should 
 have made two such powerful friends in one week 
 the very week to which we have looked forward 
 with such dread?" 
 
 "Felicia docs not think that tho Bishop will
 
 38 Lady Betty s Governess; or, 
 
 ever remember us again," said I ; " but, as I tell 
 her, she judges every one by herself." 
 
 " Oh, Felicia always Felicia !" said Dick, with 
 some impatience, for him. " It "was one of my 
 comforts about your going away, Peggy, that you 
 would be out of the influence of Felicia." 
 
 " I don't think she influences me !" said I, rather 
 testily. 
 
 " Why then do you always refer everything to 
 her? Why are you always thinking about what 
 she will say, and fretting over what she does say ? 
 I tell you, Peggy, we are perhaps as much influ- 
 enced by those we dislike and even hate, as by 
 those we love." 
 
 Hate is a hard word. I wonder if I do hate 
 Felicia? I am afraid I do, sometimes. 
 
 " At any rate, I am glad she is going away, for 
 dear mother's sake," said I ; " though I do not 
 think Aunt Willson quite knoAvs what she is un- 
 dertaking. But she may do better in a new place, 
 at least for a time." 
 
 And then we fell into discourse concerning my 
 journey, and our future plans. Dick told me he 
 had already begun to act upon the Bishop's advice, 
 and that Master Smith was willing, and com- 
 mended his plan ; and he showed me the big book 
 on which he was engaged. It was all in Latin, so 
 I was not much the wiser, for though I know a 
 little Latin, which I learned to please dear father, 
 yet I cannot read without a Lexicon, as Dick can. 
 Before wo had half finished our talk, Aunt Willson
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 39 
 
 was ready to start, aud we set off homeward, fol- 
 lowed by rny aunt's serving man, carrying our 
 bundles, and well loaded he was, indeed, poor 
 man. 
 
 Felicia did not look over well pleased at m;y 
 aunt's bounty to my mother and the children. 
 She is already disposed to appropriate Aunt 
 Willson as her own property, and shut out the 
 rest of us. If she only knew but of course 'tis 
 best she should not. Mother said something 
 about wishing that I also were going with Aunt 
 Willson instead of among strangers not of course 
 expecting any such thing when Felicia took her 
 up quite sharply. 
 
 " That is out of the question, sister ! I am 
 surprised that you should think of such a thing. 
 It is not reasonable to expect my aunt to burden 
 herself with the whole family. I ain sure you 
 might be satisfied with what she has done already." 
 
 " Heighty-tighty !" said my aunt. " In London 
 we don't suffer young folks to check and reprove 
 their elders in that kind of fashion, especially 
 those who have been kind to them !" 
 
 Felicia looked a good deal taken aback, and 
 muttered something about not liking to see good- 
 ness imposed upon ; whereupon my aunt said 
 something sharply. 
 
 " Take care you don't impose upon it, then ! 
 As for me, I am able to answer for myself, and I 
 don't fancy having words either taken out of my 
 mouth or put into it !"
 
 40 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 It was Felicia's cue to seem all amiability before 
 my aunt ; so she made no reply, but as we went 
 to supper sue took an opportunity to say to me, 
 ' You have used your time well, Peggy, and played 
 your cards cleverly. You have set my aunt 
 against me already, I see." 
 
 I would not answer her, for I was determined 
 not to quarrel on the last day, arid I suppose she 
 thought it would not be very good policy for her- 
 self, for she put on a very dignified and resentful 
 air, and went to bed without speaking to me 
 again. I was not sorry, for I was afraid of one of 
 her outbursts, which somehow piit me beside 
 myself. The next day they went away, and before 
 they left, Felicia told me, with great solemnity, 
 that she forgave me for all my ill offices to her, 
 and she hoped I should do well in my new station. 
 She thought I might, if I would only curb my 
 ternper, and learn to forbear mischief-making and 
 tale-bearing. All this she said before Aunt Willson. 
 I was very angry, but I was determined to keep 
 the peace, so I only laughed and thanked her for 
 her good advice. Aunt "Willson kissed me most 
 kindly, and put a little purse into my hand, whisper- 
 ing, as she did so : 
 
 " This is for thine own pocket, chick. Never 
 
 nind Felicia. I understand all about it. Keep a 
 
 ood heart, and remember that, as long as I live, 
 
 you have a friend at need. I will never see your 
 
 good mother want, I promise you that." 
 
 So they rode away, and it has seemed, ever
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 41 
 
 since, as though some heavy oppressive vapor had 
 cleared away out of the air. Nobody laments 
 but Jacky, who was her special pet, and whom she 
 upheld against everybody, mother herself included. 
 I wish we could have hit it off together a little 
 better. It seemed as if we ought to have been 
 friends, growing up together as we did, and being 
 so nearly related; but I don't know how it was, 
 somehow every painful passage in my life almost 
 has been connected with her. I might have been 
 to blame too indeed I know I have often been 
 so ; but I cannot help being glad that our paths 
 have separated, at least for a time. Then I am 
 quite sure mother will be happier without her. 
 Not that Felicia could not be a great help when 
 she chose, and a pleasant companion as well ; bat 
 the least thing put her out of humor, and then 
 she made the house simply intolerable. She 
 has been much worse since the death of my 
 father, who alone could control her in her bad 
 moods. 
 
 The next great event is, that the Bishop hath 
 bought my father's library for a good round sum 
 Master Smith valuing the books. They are to 
 remain in their places in the vaulted room, aud 
 form a sort of permanent library for the use of 
 future rectors, and my Lord has stipulated with Mr. 
 Carey that Dick shall have the use of such books 
 as he needs only the great vellum covered Saint 
 Augustine and one or two others my Lord has 
 purchased for himself. The price of the books,
 
 42 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 and my aunt "Willson's bounty, mates my mother 
 very comfortable. 
 
 Mr. Carey made up his mind to remain a week 
 longer, which I did not regret, as it gave me just 
 so much more time at home, and enabled me to 
 help mother move and settle herself in the cottage. 
 "Tis a pleasant little nest enough, with a fair look 
 out over the fields, and a nice garden, well-stocked 
 with herbs and common flowers, and some fruit as 
 well. In this we reap the advantage of my father's 
 careful habits, who would never let the least thing 
 belonging to him go out of order. 'Twas not his 
 way to anticipate, else I might think that he had 
 stocked the garden and kept the little orchard in 
 good bearing order, looking forward to the time 
 when it might become a kind of humble jointure 
 house for his widow. Be that as it may, now that 
 the place is all put to rights, with the hangings up, 
 the old furniture put in place, and dear mother's 
 piled up work-basket in the window, I must say it 
 looks very much like home. The children are 
 pleased, of course, with any change, but dear 
 mother looks very sad at times. Oh, if I could 
 but stay ! I said once that I should not so much 
 mind leaving home, now that home no longer meant 
 the rectory ; but I find, as the time draws nigh, 
 that home means the place where the dear ones are. 
 
 March 13. 
 
 'Tis settled now that we go on Monday. My 
 clothes and other possessions are all packed, and I
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 43 
 
 have nauglit to do but to enjoy my last Sunday as 
 well as I can. I have already bid good-by to the 
 old folks at the almshouse. Goody Crump was 
 very solemn as she kissed and blessed me, and 
 prayed that I might be kept from every snare. 
 She would needs give me a keepsake also a 
 little gilded glass bottle which her son brought 
 home from foreign parts on his last voyage. It is 
 no bigger than my little finger, and is all but 
 empty, but it still exhales a sweet odor of roses. 
 Dame Higgins would give me a token too, in the 
 shape of a little tarnished silver medal, having, as 
 near as I can make out, the figure of the Virgin 
 or some female saint, and a Latin legend, of 
 which I can make out nothing but "Are" Dame 
 Higgins is a Roman Catholic. 
 
 " Take it and wear it take it and wear it !" 
 said she. "It has the pope's blessing. An' it 
 does you no good, it can do no harm." 
 
 That I fully believe, and I would not hurt the 
 poor old creature by refusing her gift. When I 
 showed it to old Esther, however, she was not well 
 pleased, called it a Popish trinket, and bade me 
 beware of the sin of idolatry. I could not but 
 laugh, at which she was yet more displeased ; but I 
 coaxed her round at last to say, that after all it might 
 do me no great harm. She herself has given me n 
 charm a stone with a hole in it, sovereign against 
 witches so I am like to have charms enow. The 
 Bishop hath also given me a token namely the 
 book he promised me. It is called " Contempla-
 
 44 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 tions on the Old and New Testaments," arid is a 
 considerable volume. I hope to get much good 
 from it, for 'tis writ in a plain and simple style, 
 much like his sermons not what one would 
 expect from such a deeply learned man. I am 
 glad to have it, and glad too that my Lord 
 remembered me, though Felicia said he would 
 never think of me again. 
 
 March 14. 
 
 The last Sunday! The very last, for Heaven 
 only knows how long ! My heart would break if 
 I dared think about it. Mother and all of us went 
 to church. Mr. Carey preached a very learned 
 and fine sermon, bu,t not so much to my mind as 
 that of Bishop Hall. Last Sunday my Lord's text 
 was, "Enoch walked with God;" and there was 
 not a sentence that any poor person could not 
 understand. Mr. Carey's had a great many quo- 
 tations from the Father's and from learned authors, 
 yet the end was simple and plain enough, and I 
 was much pleased at his kindly ways after church, 
 and his courtesy to my mother. ; Tis a great 
 comfort to think that so good a man is come in 
 dear father's room. 
 
 Well, I must needs put away my book and pen. 
 When I take them again I shall be far enough 
 from here.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 March 19. 
 
 STANTON COUBT, DEVONSHIBE. 
 
 HAVE been here three days, and have 
 not been able before to write in my 
 journal. I will say naught of the leave- 
 taking at home. It was bad enough, and 
 I don't want to live it over again. Oh, how weary 
 I was when I arrived here, though I enjoyed the 
 journey, too. I rode part of the way on horseback 
 by myself, and sometimes on a pinion behind Mr. 
 Carey's servant, as far as Exeter, and from thence 
 I came in the wagon. They were all very kind to 
 me, and at Exeter, where I stayed two days, Mrs. 
 Carey made me most kindly welcome ; so that it 
 was like a new grief to part with her. She asked 
 me many questions about the parish, and specially 
 about the poor people. She would know some- 
 thing of the gentry and farmers as well, but hero 
 Mr. Carey checked her. 
 
 "Don't tempt the child to gossip, my love," 
 said he.
 
 46 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 Mrs. Carey blushed and laughed, but took all in 
 
 good part. For my part I was not sorry, for I 
 
 know my tongue sometimes runs too fast, and I 
 
 hardly ever talk about people without saying some- 
 
 liing I am sorry for afterwards. 
 
 I saw the Cathedral, which is very grand and 
 beautiful. I hoped we might meet the Bishop, 
 but he is away on his visitations. 
 
 From Exeter I came in my Lord's wagon to 
 Stanton Court. It was late when we arrived, and 
 I could see little of the house, save that it was a 
 grand one, with many lighted windows, and with 
 large trees about it. We went up a long avenue, 
 and round to a side door which opened into 
 a square paved hall. Here I waited a good while, 
 till I was ready to faint from weariness and 
 hunger. At last an elderly woman appeared, and 
 seeing me standing there alone, she asked me 
 very kindly what I wanted, and whom I wanted to 
 see. I made myself known to her, and gave her 
 the note for my Lady which I had brought from 
 Mr. Carey. 
 
 " Oh yes. You are the young lady from Chester, 
 who is to live with my Lady Betty. But you 
 should not be here among the servants. Come 
 with me, and I will show you your room, and 
 provide you some supper, for I am sure you must 
 be tired and hungry." 
 
 I followed her through a door, across the great 
 hall, up-stairs, and through passages, till I was 
 thoroughly turned round and did not know where
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 47 
 
 I was at all. At last wo entered a turret-room, 
 where was a bright fire, which was all I could see 
 at first, my eyes were so dazzled. 
 
 " I caused a fire to be kindled, lest the room 
 might be damp, as it has not been used lately," 
 said my companion. "You will find everything 
 comfortable. 'Tis my Lady's pleasure that all 
 under her roof should be so, each according to 
 their degree. I will cause your mails to be sent 
 up, as well as some refreshment, and you will do 
 well to change your travelling dress, and be ready 
 in case my Lady should wish to see you to-night." 
 
 "Is my Lady Betty's room near to this?" 
 I ventured to ask. 
 
 " Yes, but I was not speaking of her, poor clear 
 child, but of her mother, my Lady Stanton." 
 
 She lingered a moment, arranging the furniture, 
 and then coming near me, she said, in a low tone : 
 
 " My dear, I do hope you will be kind and patient 
 with poor Lady Betty. She is one by herself, and 
 she hath so few pleasures, poor thing. You will, 
 wont you?" 
 
 "Indeed I will," said I. "I love children 
 dearly." 
 
 " That is well. But she is not like a healthy 
 child, you see, and I sometimes think that her 
 mind is as badly twisted as her body. Her late 
 governess was very sharp with her, and I know 
 she did her harm : and so my Lady thought, for she 
 sent her away very soon. But I will say no more. 
 I am the housekeeper, my dear. I am a far-away
 
 48 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 cousin of my Lord, but I never presume on my 
 relationship, though they are all very kind to me. 
 Do you ask for Mrs. Judith, if you wish to 
 find me. Mr. Carey, with whom you travelled, is 
 -a nephew of mine. Now I must send your supper, 
 and let my Lady know that you are come. She 
 has asked for you to-day." 
 
 She went out, and presently came up a man 
 with my mails, followed by a maid with a tray 
 containing hot soup and other good things. 
 
 "Here is your supper, mistress," said she, 
 pertly enough. " 'Tis easy to see you have already 
 got into Mrs. Judith's good graces." 
 
 "Set it on the table," said I, thinking her 
 freedom very impertinent. She gave her head 
 a toss, but said no more, and presently I heard 
 her laughing with the man outside the door. 
 " Pretty well for a poor parson's daughter," 1 
 heard them say. I opened my mails, and dressed 
 myself neatly in one of my new gowns, and then 
 sat down to enjoy the good supper provided for 
 me. I had hardly finished, when Mistress Judith 
 opened my door. 
 
 " You are to go to my Lady in her dressing- 
 room at once," said she. " Dear me, how nice 
 you look ! But come, follow me, and mind the 
 steps at the door of my Lady's room, and don't be 
 over bashful when my Lady speaks to you." 
 
 Mrs. Judith was so evidently flurried, that I felt 
 flurried myself, but I tried to compose myself. It 
 came over me, that here was one of the occasions
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 49 
 
 ou which I needed the help of that great Master 
 whom I was to serve, and I murmured the prayer 
 for grace I was accustomed to use every morning 
 and I don't know how it was, it seemed to quiet 
 me directly. 
 
 "Mind the steps," said Mrs. Judith, as she 
 opened the door ; and it was well she did warn me, 
 or I should have greeted my new mistress by 
 falling on my nose before her. As it was, I made 
 my courtesy, and followed my conductor into the 
 room where sat my Lady Stanton. She almost 
 dazzled my eyes, she was so beautiful and so richly 
 dressed. She sat by her toilet-table, and seemed 
 to be about undressing for the night, for her maid 
 was getting out the things, and honored me with a 
 stare behind her mistress' back. 
 
 " Come near to me, Mistress Merton," said my 
 Lady, speaking with a clear, sweet voice, which 
 struck me at once as having a ring of sadness in it. 
 " You need not wait now, Brewster," she added, 
 speaking to the dressing-maid. " I will call when I 
 need you." 
 
 My Lady asked me kindly about my journey, 
 and my mother, as if she meant to set me at my 
 ease. Then she said : 
 
 " I suppose you have very little notion of what 
 you are to do ?" 
 
 " Very little, my Lady," I answered, which was 
 the truth. 
 
 My Lady smiled. " You will find out by de- 
 grees. You are to spend most of your time with 
 
 4
 
 5o Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 my little daughter to amuse her and keep her 
 contented, and to teach her what you can, and 
 what she is able to leam without too much 
 trouble. You will take your meals with Mrs. 
 Judith, or else with the family, when we have no 
 company. You will have certain hours to yourself, 
 and are at liberty to walk out, so you go not too 
 far from home ; and I shall be glad if you can 
 persuade Lady Betty to go out also. You will 
 come to prayers with the rest of the family every 
 morning. Mrs. Judith will show you where you 
 are to sit. That is all I have to say to you 
 at present, but I will see you again. I dare say 
 you are wearied with your ride, and it is late." 
 
 She signed for me to go, and I followed Mrs. 
 Judith back to my room, which was quite in 
 another part of the house. "When I was alone 
 again, I thought over all I had heard, and I could 
 not but feel that my position would probably be a 
 hard one. It did not seem that I was to have 
 any authority over the child, though I was ex- 
 pected to teach her. I was to have nothing to do 
 with the servants, and yet I was not to be one of 
 the family. I did not see my way at all, but 
 1 remembered what dear mother once said that 
 if we could see but one step before us, we were 
 to take that step, and then the next would be made 
 plain. So I consoled myself with thinking that at 
 any rate I had nothing to do to-night but to make 
 myself comfortable. I unpacked some of my chief 
 treasures my few books, my work-box, and
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 5i 
 
 especially my new Bible, and a pretty Prayer-book 
 which Mr. Smith gave me. My room is a very 
 neat and pretty one a turret room, with a closet, 
 and two deep, narrow windows. There is a small 
 bed with green hangings, a chair, table, and 
 chest of drawers, and what I prized most, a kind 
 of desk, or cabinet, with a place on which to write, 
 and a good many little drawers and shelves. I 
 liked the aspect of my room, and after I had said 
 my prayers, and read my Bible verses, I began to 
 feel more at home, and to think that perhaps 
 I might be happy here after all. I could not but 
 shed a few tears when I thought how far away 
 were mother and all my friends, and then the 
 thought came across me, that we were all in the 
 presence of the same Heavenly Father, and that 
 His eye sees all at one glance, as it were. I never 
 so strongly felt his presence as at that moment ; 
 and I did pray earnestly that He would make me 
 to love Him more, that He would guide me, and 
 make my way plain before me. 
 
 I did not sleep till late there seemed to be so 
 many strange noises, the wind did so roar in the 
 chimney and among the great trees ; and when it 
 fell, there was another sound which I could not 
 understand a kind of long, low roar, which rose 
 and fell, but never wholly ceased. At last my 
 weariness overcame me, but it seemed as if I had 
 not slept more than half an hour, when I was 
 wakened by the loud, passionate crying of a child. 
 I saw the sun was shining, and springing np ;
 
 52 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 I hastened to dress. I had hardly done so, the 
 child crying all the time, when there came a knock 
 at the door, and some one hastily opened it. 
 
 " I crave your pardon, mistress, but will you 
 please come to my young Lady directly?" said a 
 decent, kind-faced woman, who looked like a 
 servant. " She has heard that you are come, and 
 is determined to see you. Do make haste, before 
 my Lord is waked by her noise." 
 
 " I will come at once," said I ; and I laid down 
 my Bible, having read only one verse " Call 
 upon me in the day of trouble, so will I hear 
 thee." 
 
 " Is that Lady Betty crying ?" I asked, as the 
 screams struck more loudly on my ear, upon 
 opening the door." 
 
 " Yes, she is in one of her takings, poor thing. 
 Do pacify her if you can, for I can't, and that's the 
 truth. You see her old nurse is lately dead, and 
 she don't take to me yet." 
 
 She opened, as she spoke, first a door covered 
 with green baize, and then one of wood, and 
 ushered me into a large, airy room. It was the 
 finest I had ever seen, except my Lady's, but I had 
 no eyes for anything except the child who sat 
 upright in the bed, her face red with passion, her 
 poor little hands, as thin as bird's claws, clutching 
 the bed hangings, as if she would pull them down, 
 while she screamed at the top of her voice, like one 
 distracted. 
 
 " See here, Lady Betty ! Here's a pretty young
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 53 
 
 lady come to see you. Now be good, and speak 
 prettily to her, wont you?" 
 
 But Lady Betty only screamed out some in- 
 articulate words. 
 
 " There, see what you can do with her," said the 
 maid, in a low voice. " I dare not go near her, 
 that is the truth. She is like a wild cat." 
 
 I remembered how mother used to deal with me 
 in my "tantrums," as Esther used to call them, 
 and going up to the bed, I quietly sat myself 
 down upon it, and looked at Lady Betty, without 
 saying a word. At first she did not seem to notice 
 me ; but as I sat quite still and looked steadfastly 
 at her, she presently ceased crying, and looked at 
 me in a kind of wonder. 
 
 "Who are you?" she asked. 
 
 " I am Margaret Merton," I answered. " I have 
 come to see you, but I can tell you no more till you 
 stop crying." 
 
 " I want my mother," she said, pitifully. 
 
 "My Lady is not awake yet, I dare say," I 
 answered. " I am sure you would not like to wake 
 her with crying. That is not a pleasant way of 
 being roused." 
 
 I saw I had gained her attention. " Did I wake 
 you ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, and I could not think at first where I was. 
 I am not used to hear children cry." 
 
 " Haven't you any children at your house?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, I have two twin sisters about as old
 
 54 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 as you, and a little brother, but they do not 
 cry." 
 
 She was interested directly, and began to ask me 
 questions. I talked to her till she was quiet, and 
 had forgotten her passion, and then I said, " I 
 will tell you more when you are dressed." 
 
 " But I don't want to be dressed," said she, put- 
 ting up her lip. " Mary hurts me so. I want my 
 own old Mary !" 
 
 " But you can't have her, my Lady, because she 
 is not here," argued the maid. " She is dead and 
 gone, as you know very well." Then to me : 
 
 "Do persuade her. My Lady will be dis- 
 pleased." 
 
 ""Will you let me dress you, Lady Betty?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Won't you take hold of my arms hard and hurt 
 me ?" she asked, looking doubtfully at me. 
 
 " Not if I can help it ; but if I do, you must tell 
 me, and I will be more careful." 
 
 She submitted with a good grace, and I took 
 her in my lap and dressed her like a baby, Mary 
 handing me the things. The tears were very near 
 my eyes as I was doing it, for I remembered how I 
 used to dress my poor little sister Phillis, the one 
 next older than the twins, who died of a waste a 
 year before my father. I did not wonder that 
 Lady Betty dreaded to be touched, when I saw 
 how thin she was nothing but skin and bone. 
 She is terribly hunchbacked, too. Her backbone 
 is turned to one side, and curves out so that she
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 55 
 
 has a great buncli on her shoulders. She cried 
 out once or twice, but on the whole we got 
 through pretty well. "When I had done, she put 
 up her poor face and kissed me, saying that I had 
 hardly hurt her at all. I was glad to see that 
 Mary looked relieved and pleased instead of seem- 
 ing jealous. 
 
 " That is my good little Lady!" said she. "Now, 
 I will bring your breakfast ;" and she hastened 
 away. 
 
 "Don't you say your prayers?" I asked the 
 child, when we were alone together. 
 
 " Why, no !" she said, as if surprised. " I 
 cannot go to the chapel." 
 
 " But you might say them here. Your Heavenly 
 Father will know what you say as well here as in 
 the chapel." 
 
 " "Well, I will say them, if you will hear ma, as 
 Mary used. I like you, and I will do as you bid 
 me." 
 
 I thought I had made a good beginning. I set 
 her on the side of the bed, as she could not kneel 
 and kneeling by her, with her hands clasped in mine 
 I made her say after me the Lord's prayer, and 
 another, which dear mother taught me as a child. 
 Then I made her say, " God bless my father and 
 mother, and all my friends, and make me a good 
 girl." 
 
 She was very serious and reverent. After we had 
 finished, she asked me to carry her to the window 
 that she might look out.
 
 56 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 " Cannot you walk ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, but it hurts me. I like to be carried 
 best." 
 
 She was nothing to lift, so I humored her by 
 carrying her to the window. It was the first 
 chance I had to look out, and I exclaimed at the 
 beauty of the view which met my eyes. The green 
 grass of the lawn oh, so green stretched away to 
 the woods, of which the buds were at least two 
 weeks in advance of those I had left at home, and 
 in some places showed a faint tinge of their sum- 
 mer's hue. On one side I could just catch a 
 glimpse of a fine formal garden, with statues, and a 
 fountain, and high clipped hollys and yews. The 
 church tower peeped from the trees at the end of 
 the long avenue, and away at the horizon lay a 
 broad belt of glittering blue. I was so taken by 
 surprise, that I did not think what it was, and asked 
 Lady Betty. 
 
 "Why, that is the sea!" said the child. "Did 
 you never see the sea before ? I love to sit and 
 look at it, and at night I lie and listen to the sound 
 of the waves, till I long to fly away over there, 
 where the birds go. Would you not like to fly, 
 Margaret Merton ?" 
 
 " You are to say Mistress Merton," said Mary, 
 \rho now came in with the breakfast. 
 
 " I shall say what I like !" retorted the peevish 
 child. " Margaret is a pretty name, and I love to 
 say it. I may call you Margaret, may I not ?" 
 
 "Surely, my love, if your mother does not object."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 5; 
 
 " My mother wont care. Every one lets me do 
 as I please, only my aunt Jemima, and you need 
 not mind her." 
 
 " Come now and have your breakfast," said I. 
 
 " I don't want my breakfast. I am not 
 hungry." 
 
 " But you will be hungry by and by," I urged ; 
 " and besides, your mother will not be pleased if 
 you do not eat your good bread and milk. It is 
 that which makes little girls fat and rosy." 
 
 " I shall never be fat and rosy, I know !" said 
 Lady Betty, in so sad a tone for a child, that the 
 tears came to my eyes. " But never mind, Mar- 
 garet, I will eat it if you want me to. Only please sit 
 by me and talk to me ! " 
 
 I was quite ready to do that, and we grew very 
 merry over the bread and milk, Mary putting the 
 room to rights meantime. I was telling my Lady a 
 long story about our old cat and her kittens, and 
 how she carried them all back to the rectory in her 
 mouth when we moved. I had just come to the 
 most interesting part of the story, when the door 
 opened, and a lady entered whom I had not seen 
 before. She seemed to me about thirty-five, 
 though I have since learned that she is not nearly 
 so old. She was very plain, with hair, eyes and 
 skin which seemed all of a color, and there was 
 wonderful formal, precise air about her. I broke 
 off my story and rose, of course, while Lady Betty 
 greeted the new comer with : 
 
 " Now, Aunt Jemima, do go away ! Margaret is
 
 58 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 telling me such a pretty tale, and I want to hear 
 the end of it." 
 
 " Margaret, forsooth ! And pray who is this 
 young person with whom you are so intimate 
 already ?" asked the lady, glancing at me, as i 
 she suspected me of committing some great impro- 
 priety. 
 
 " Why, Margaret Merton, of course !" answered 
 the child, pettishly. 
 
 " Oh, I understand. The young damsel who 
 was expected a week ago. How did it happen, 
 Mistress Margaret Merton, that you did not arrive 
 at the time appointed ?" 
 
 I explained to her that I had waited for Mr. 
 Carey, who had changed his plans at the last 
 moment. She seemed to consider my excuse as of 
 little consequence, for she hardly heard me through 
 before she turned to Lady Betty. 
 
 " Well, child, and how do you find yourself this 
 morning?" Then, without waiting for an answer, 
 she turned again to me : 
 
 " It appears to me, Mistress Merton, that it would 
 be more seemly for you to stand in attendance 
 upon your young mistress, than to be sitting thus 
 familiarly by her side." 
 
 I felt my face grow scarlet at the reproof. Thu 
 truth is, that I had never thought of Lady Betty 
 as my mistress at all, but only as a poor suffering 
 child who was to be made comfortable ; and I had 
 treated her just as I would have treated one of our 
 own twins, or one of the village children in a fit of
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 5g 
 
 the earache. I knew not what to say, but Lady 
 Betty answered for me : 
 
 " I choose to have her sit by me, Aunt Jemima, and 
 that is enough. She is good to me, and I love her 
 and she shall do as I choose, wont you, Mar 
 garet?" 
 
 I did not know what to say or do, for I had never 
 heard a child speak to a grown person in that way, 
 I thought the best way was to say nothing. Lady 
 Jemima reproved the child sharply for her imper- 
 tinence, and even went so far as to shake her. The 
 child screamed loudly, at which I could not won- 
 der, for the shaking must have hurt her very "much, 
 so thin and weak as she was. I thought, for my 
 part, Lady Jemima deserved the shaking quite as 
 much as Lady Betty ; and I confess I should like 
 to have given it her myself. At that moment my 
 Lady Stauton appeared at the open door. 
 
 " What is all this ?" she asked. Lady Betty at 
 once began to tell her story, and Lady Jemima hers. 
 My Lady said nothing till it came to the shaking. 
 Then her great dark eyes flashed, and she turned 
 upon her sister-in-law, and bade her never to touch 
 the child again at her peril. 
 
 Lady Jemima at first began to justify herself, but 
 stopped suddenly, burst into tears, and ran out oi 
 the room. 
 
 My Lady tried to quiet the child, who was still 
 crying, and at last succeeded by telling her that 
 her father would hear her, and be very angry. 
 Then she bade me go and get my breakfast, and
 
 60 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 she would stay with Lady Betty. She followed me 
 to the door and closed it after her. 
 
 "This is not a good beginning!" said she. 
 '* What did you do to displease my sister and make 
 11 this trouble?" 
 
 " I told her, adding that I was very sorry, but I 
 had no thought of doing anything wrong, but only 
 of pleasing Lady Betty, who would have me sit 
 down with her and tell her a story while she ate her 
 bread and milk. 
 
 " Well, well !" said she. " 'T\vas no great matter 
 to make such an ado about, but you must manage 
 as quietly as you may. I am glad that Betty 
 takes to you, and I hope you may be able to teach 
 her something : but be very gentle with her, and 
 above all, try to keep her quiet, for nothing vexes 
 my Lord so much as her screams. There, go and 
 get your breakfast, and look about you if you 
 choose. I shall be with Betty for the next hour." 
 
 She went back to Lady Betty and shut the door. 
 I did not know what to do, for I had been so con- 
 fused the night before that I had not observed 
 which way we had come, and had no notion in 
 what part of the house to look for Mrs. Judith's 
 room. As I stood hesitating, Lady Jemima 
 appeared again, her eyes red with crying. 
 
 " What's the matter ?" she asked, in a more gentle 
 oice than I had yet heard her use : " why do you 
 stand here?" 
 
 " Because I do not know which way to go, my 
 Lady I" I answered. " I am to go to Mrs. Judith's
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 61 
 
 room for my breakfast, and I don't know where to 
 find it." 
 
 " I -will show you," she said. " Follow me." 
 
 " But that is taking too much trouble for you, my 
 Lady," said I. 
 
 " I choose to do it," she returned. " It is fit that 
 I should humble myself as a penance for so forget- 
 ting myself before you this morning. Let it be a 
 warning to you." 
 
 I did not understand what was to be the warn- 
 ing, and there was something very strange to my 
 ears in the way Lady Jemima talked of doing 
 penance. However I said no more, but followed 
 her down-stairs, noting the turns this time, that I 
 might not be at a loss again. "We met several per- 
 sons, who spoke to Lady Jemima and looked rather 
 curiously at me, especially one tall, stately gentle- 
 man, who said to her, in a laughing way : 
 
 " Good morning, my Lady Abbess. Have 3*ou 
 found a new penitent, or novice, or whatever you 
 please to call her ?" 
 
 " Certainly a novice, brother, but I fear not much 
 of a penitent," replied Lady Jemima, primly. " 'Tis 
 Betty's new governess, or waiting- gentlewoman, 
 which ever you please to call her." 
 
 " So !" said my Lord, as I now perceived him to 
 be, looking at me with more attention. "You 
 have undertaken a hard task, my young lady. I 
 would as soon be nurse to a wild-cat. But 'tis no 
 wonder the poor thing is cankered and crabbed, 
 considering her misfortune. Be kind and faithful
 
 62 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 to her, and you shall lose nothing thereby, I prom- 
 ise you." 
 
 I courtesiecl, but did not speak. As mother says, 
 "Murnchanceis a safe game." 
 
 "Here is Mistress Judith's room," said Lady 
 Jemima, opening the door. 
 
 " Many thanks, madam," I began, but she cut me 
 short at once. 
 
 " You owe me no thanks : I did it to please my- 
 self." Then more graciously : " I will see you 
 again, and perhaps I may be of use to you. I 
 daresay you need instruction in your religious 
 duties." 
 
 I courtesied again, and she left me. I could not 
 but think that pleasing oneself was an odd way of 
 doing penance. Mrs. Judith was very kind to me, 
 and provided me a nice breakfast. 
 
 When I had eaten, I thought I would look 
 about me a little, as my Lady had said. 
 The trees of the park came up quite close 
 on this side of the house, and I found my- 
 self directly in a little wood, where grew in pro- 
 fusion primroses and many other flowers which had 
 not begun to think of coming out in the North. I 
 gathered two pretty little nosegays, one for my own 
 room, and one for Lady Betty ; and finding some 
 snail shells, I put them in my pocket, thinking that 
 they might amuse the child. I could have spent 
 my whole hour in the wood, but I remembered that 
 my clothes were yet to bo put in order, so I went 
 back to my room, and unpacked all my tilings
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 63 
 
 arranging them as I was used to do in my old 
 room in the Kectory. Then, ha^ng still a few 
 minutes, I read the one hundred and third Psalm, 
 which came in mj regular course, and said my 
 morning prayers. The chaplain is gone away, so 
 we have no prayers in the chapel at present. Then 
 I went back to Lady Betty's room. My Lady was 
 still there, and smiled as she saw my flowers, while 
 Betty uttered a cry of delight, as she took them in 
 her hands and smelled them. 
 
 " Do you then love flowers as well as myself ?" 
 said my Lady, gently. 
 
 " Yes, my Lady," I answered. 
 
 " Margaret used to have a garden when she 
 lived at home," said Lady Betty. " She told me 
 so this morning. I wish I could have one, but 
 then I could not dig in it myself, as she used 
 to." 
 
 "Perhaps you may, some day, when you are 
 stronger," said my Lady. " You and Mistress 
 Merton seem to have made friends very readily." 
 
 " She is so good to me," said Betty. " She 
 dressed me without hurting me a bit. I love her 
 better than anybody but my own old Mary." 
 
 " Mistress Merton was ver} r kind to dress you," 
 answered my Lady. "But, my daughter, she is 
 not your nurse or waiting-woman she is your 
 governess, and you must be good and obey her, 
 and strive to learn all that she can teach you." 
 
 I was not sorry to hear my Lady say this. It 
 is much more comfortable to understand one's
 
 64 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 position, be that position what it may. But Lady 
 Betty did not seem pleased at all. 
 
 "I don't want a governess!" she whimpered. 
 * Mrs. Bnrley was a governess, and she was cross 
 to me : and I want Margaret to dress me and tell 
 me tales, as she did this morning." 
 
 " Oh, very well ! That is as you and she can 
 agree ;" said my Lady, smiling, as did I. " I dare 
 say she will tell you tales if you are good ; only, 
 Mistress Merton, you must not let this imperious 
 little girl make a slave of you." 
 
 " But you will dress me, won't you ?" asked the 
 child, turning to me. 
 
 "Surely, if your mother is willing," I said. 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 My Lady gave me a sweet smile, and a glance 
 from her beautiful eyes, as she kissed Lady Betty, 
 and sat her in her easy chair (for she had been all 
 this while on her mother's lap). The child made 
 up a crying face, but refrained, as her mother held 
 up her ringer, though her poor little mouth quivered 
 piteously as my Lady left the room, and I feared 
 we might have another scene. Luckily, I be- 
 thought myself of the shells in my pocket, and 
 these and the rest of the story about the kittens 
 diverted the impending storm. 
 
 But I am running on at too great length with my 
 first day's experiences at Stanton Court. I will 
 only add that I dined with Mrs. Judith at noon, 
 the house being full of company ; and being used 
 to eat my dinner earlier, I was hungry enough.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 65 
 
 Mrs. Judith says, 'tis the fashion now, not to dine 
 till noon, and some very modish people put it off 
 an hour later, which seems absurd enough. I had 
 no more trouble this day with Lady Betty, who 
 was good enough, only she has a pert, fretful way 
 of speaking, which I do not at all like. 
 
 I have begun making her a great rag baby, such 
 as Phillis and I used to play with. Lady Betty is 
 much interested, and I mean the job shall be a 
 good long one. I rise before six and thus have an 
 hour to myself before I go to my child. I have 
 dressed her every morning and undressed her at 
 night, making the condition that she shall learn a 
 Bible verse every time, from my repetition. Thun 
 we talk a little, and I sing a psalm to her, and she 
 goes to sleep quietly enough. 
 
 Mary sleeps in the room with her, and is dis- 
 posed to be very kind and faithful : but she does 
 not know how to manage very well. 
 
 March 23. 
 
 I am getting settled to this way of life, and have 
 began lessons with Lady Betty. She knew her 
 letters, bub that was all, so I begin at the beginning. 
 We have half an hour's lesson, then an hour of 
 talk and play. 
 
 I have had a long conversation with my Lady, 
 whom I like more and more all the time. I told 
 ner how Phillis and John had died of wasting 
 sickness, and how my mother had then taken a dif- 
 ferent way with the others, giving them little or no 
 
 5
 
 66 Lady Betty s Governess. 
 
 medicine, and plenty of fresh air and good plain 
 food, and how they had improved under the regi- 
 inen. She seemed pleased with the notion, and 
 said, as it grew warmer, we might perhaps get 
 Betty out of doors. She likes my plan of teaching 
 and says I shall manage matters my own way 
 Beside that, she hath caused my place to be fully 
 settled in the family as Lady Betty's governess, 
 and yesterday, hearing Anne give me a slighting 
 answer about my room, which it is her business to 
 take care of, she gave her a short but sharp setting 
 down, and bade her beg my pardon, which she did, 
 sulkily enough.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 March 30. 
 
 ) ASTER is almost here. It has seemed 
 strange not to go to church, as my dear 
 father maintained daily prayers all through 
 Lent; but the chaplain is come home 
 now, so we shall have prayers in the chapel every 
 morning. 
 
 I have quite shaken down into my place, and 
 am beginning to feel at home, and even happy. 
 Everybody is kind to me, even Anne. She came 
 to me one day with her eyes red with weeping, 
 and looking so sad that I asked her what the 
 matter was ; so she burst out crying and told me 
 that her baby sister was dead. I comforted her 
 as well as I could, and seeing her heart was full, I 
 drew her on to talk about the child, and its 
 winning ways, and finally read her what our Lord 
 says about little children. She left me, quite 
 consoled, and now thinks nothing too much to do 
 for me. 
 
 As for Lad} T Betty, I have no great trouble with 
 
 (67)
 
 68 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 her, except that I have now and then to fighl 
 a battle with her selfishness, and assert myself a 
 little. The poor thing has taken to me wonder- 
 fully. 
 
 " I do love you !" she said to me, last night, as I 
 was undressing her. 
 
 " And so do I love you !" I answered. 
 
 "Really?" said she, looking at me wistfully. 
 "Really and truly?" 
 
 " Really and truly !" I answered. " Why not ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Burley said I was so cross that nobody 
 could love me," said she. "And I am cross, I 
 know. I was cross to you this morning !" 
 
 " Rather !" I answered, smiling. 
 
 "Well, I am sorry!" she said, impulsively. 
 " Will you love me if I am cross ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said I : " only, Lady Betty, why 
 should you be cross ?" 
 
 " I don't know because I am so sick and so 
 you know, Margaret. I am not like other people, 
 and I can't help being cross !" 
 
 "Are you sure?" I asked. " Did you ever try ?" 
 
 She opened her great eyes as if such a notion 
 had never occurred to her mind ; but she answered 
 frankly : " No, I don't know that I ever did." 
 
 " Then you can't tell whether you can help it 
 or not," said I. " All sick people are not cross. 
 Phillis was not, neither was my little playmate 
 and friend, Grace Forrester." 
 
 "Tell me about them," said she. 
 
 I am glad every time I find something new
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 69 
 
 to talk about, and Lady Betty is never weary of 
 asking questions about Phillis and Grace. 
 
 " Well, I wish I could help being cross," said 
 she, finally. " How can I ?" 
 
 " You must ask the Lord to help you," said I 
 
 "And will He?" 
 
 " Yes, if you ask Him earnestly. But then you 
 must try hard not to let the cross words come out, 
 even if you feel cross inside. If you don't say a 
 word, you will get over it all the quicker." 
 
 I noticed the next morning that she was not 
 nearly so sharp with Mary, even when Mary hurt 
 her by shaking her chair. I felt myself reproved 
 at seeing the effort she made, thinking how 
 ready I have all my life been to resent and 
 retort. 
 
 I have quite settled down, as I said, and every- 
 thing goes on regularly. There are a good many 
 ladies staying in the house, but I see none of them 
 except by accident, as my room and Lady Betty's 
 are quite by themselves, away from the company 
 part of the house. If only I were not so home- 
 sick. 
 
 April 6. 
 
 Something has really happened since I wrote 
 last. I have had a visit from Mr. Care}', and have 
 written a long letter to send home by him, since 
 he was so kind as to offer to take charge of one. 
 Mr. Carey stopped at the parsonage in the village 
 with old Doctor Parnell, and walked up to Stanton
 
 70 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 Court to see his aunt Mrs. Judith and myself. I 
 was overjoyed at seeing him, and was so silly as 
 to let my joy overflow at my eyes. It did seem so 
 like meeting some one from home. He told me 
 he was going back to the Rectory next week, and 
 would gladly take charge of a letter for me. So I 
 wrote my letter, saying everything I could to make 
 dear mother think me happy (as indeed I am, were 
 I not so homesick). 
 
 Hearing that I was writing home, Lady 
 Stanton gave me a kind message for my mother, 
 and a new silver groat apiece for each of the 
 children. Lady Betty too would send her gifts 
 to the twins, in the shape of a piece of gay 
 ribbon, which she begged of her mother for the 
 purpose. When my package was ready my Lady 
 kindly gave me leave to carry it down to the Rec- 
 tory myself. I was glad to go, both for the sake 
 of the walk, and that I might see something of the 
 village, where I had not been except once to 
 church. Mrs. Judith bade the gardener show me 
 a shorter path to the village, through the wood, 
 and down a ravine or coombe, as they call it here, 
 in which runs a beautiful brook. About half way 
 down a beautiful spring comes boiling up from 
 under a large rock, in quite a large stream, and the 
 water is deliciously clear and cold. I could easily 
 have wasted half the afternoon in this charming 
 place, which, though very different, made me think 
 of our old haunt, the Holy "Well in the deer-park, 
 where dear Dick and I used to have so many long
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 71 
 
 talks ; but I knew that I must not be out too long, 
 so I tore myself away and hastened onward. It 
 seemed pleasant to be within the very walls of a 
 rectory once more, though that at Sfcanton Corbet 
 as the village is called is by no means so fine a 
 house as ours at Saintswell. A part of it is very 
 old, however, and it is all overgrown with climbing 
 plants, (there is such a passion flower as never 
 would flourish with us) ; and somehow the very air 
 did smell like home. Mistress Parnell made me 
 very welcome. She is not the rector's wife, but 
 his sister, neither of them having married. They 
 are both old people, with a wonderful likeness to 
 each other, both in features and expression. 
 Mistress Parnell would have me sit down to eat a 
 cake and drink a glass of mead. 
 
 "And so you have a new chaplain up at the 
 Court ?" remarked Doctor Parnell to me. 
 
 " Yes sir," I answered. " He came only yester- 
 day." 
 
 " Did you ever know him ?" asked the Doctor, 
 turning to Mr. Carey. " His name is " 
 
 "Penrose," said I, seeing that he turned to 
 me to supply the name which he had forgotten. 
 " Mr. Robert Penrose." 
 
 " Oh ! aye !" said he, smiling, " a Cornish name, 
 belike. 
 
 '"By Pol, Tre, and Pen, 
 
 You snail know the Cornish men.' " 
 
 "He is a Cornish man, I know," said I; "I 
 heard Mrs. Carey say as much."
 
 72 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 " I rather think I know him," said Mr. Carey, 
 " He is an Oxford man, and one of the new lights. 
 He was at Exeter awhile, and was to have been 
 my Lord's chaplain, but the arrangement fell 
 through. I fancy my Lord thought him too much 
 of the Archbishop's way of thinking." 
 
 "Oh, well," said Doctor Parnell, "I hope he 
 may prove a trusty shepherd, and preach the root 
 of the matter, after all. For myself," he added, 
 smiling, " I must even go on in my own way. I 
 am too old to change my old Mumpsimus, for the 
 Archbishop's new Sumpsimus." 
 
 "Whereat both the gentlemen laughed, but 'twas 
 all Greek to me. However, I fancied I understood 
 something, when I came to hear Mr. Penrose read 
 prayers for he used so much ceremony, and 
 read in such an artificial tone, that I could hardly 
 understand him. 
 
 Mistress Parnell would have me carry a basket 
 of Guinea fowls' eggs to my Lady, so I waited a 
 little for them, and had a pleasant talk with Mr. 
 Carey. Oh, how I did wish I were going back with 
 him ; but there is no use in that. Here I am, and 
 here must I stay ; and, in truth, 'twould cost me no 
 small pang to part with my poor child. I begged 
 him, if he saw Dick, to put him in mind to write to 
 me, if ever he had a chance. 
 
 " I think the opportunity is more like to be 
 wanting than the wish, Mistress Margaret," said 
 he, smiling. Nevertheless I will give }'our brother 
 your message, and also when I write to my mo-
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 73 
 
 ther, I will try to send you news from Lome. I 
 could wish there were a regular post for letters 
 from one part of the kingdom to the other, as it is 
 said there is in Holland." 
 
 "It may come to pass, though belike not in our 
 day," said Doctor Parnell. "This maiden may 
 live to see such a post passing regularly as often 
 as once a week between London and Exeter." 
 
 That does not seem very likely however, there 
 is no telling. 
 
 When I parted from Mr. Carey, it was almost 
 like leaving home once more, and I wept so much 
 after I got into the woods, that I was fain to stop 
 at the spring, and bathe my eyes a long time, 
 before I went up to the house. As I was bending 
 over the little basin, I was startled by a step, and 
 looking up hastily, I met the eye of a fine-looking 
 gentleman, whom I had never seen before. He 
 had a look of my Lord, but much younger, and 
 with a difference, as the heralds say. He was 
 much bronzed, and I took him for a sailor. He 
 raised his hat, and bowed in courteous fashion, as 
 our eyes encountered, but passed without speak- 
 ing. I wondered who he could be, but was soon 
 enlightened by Mrs. Judith, who told me that 
 young Mr. Corbet had come down to see my Lord. 
 He is my Lord's cousin, and the master, now his 
 father is dead, of the fine old house in the woods, 
 about a mile from here ; and unless my Lady's 
 child prove a boy, he is like to be heir of all. 1 ' 
 
 Lady Betty was fall of news about Cousin "Wai-
 
 74 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 ter, as she called him. " Cousin "Walter," had 
 been to see her already, and had brought her a 
 little dog from foreign parts, which she was to have 
 to-morro\v, and a fine picture-book from London. 
 I am not likely to see much of this fine gentleman, 
 but I cannot help fancying him for his kindness to 
 my poor little nursling. And I could see that 
 my Lady was pleased, also. It seemed that his 
 mother, Mrs. Corbet, wishes to return to end her 
 days in the old house, and he has come down, like 
 a dutiful son, to see it put in order for her. 
 
 April 9. 
 
 Onr company have all gone now, and we are 
 not to have any more for some time only Madam 
 Corbet is to be here for some two or three weeks, 
 before she goes to her own house. Mary shook 
 her head and looked grave upon this, but would 
 not tell me why. I am glad, for my part, that we 
 are likely to have a quieter house. I am sure so 
 much of care and company cannot be good for 
 my Lady. I now take my dinner and supper with 
 the rest, an arrangement w r hich makes me more 
 one of the family than I have been before. My 
 seat is next the chaplain's, so we are becoming well 
 ucquaiuted. 
 
 April 10. 
 
 Last night Lady Jemima came to my room 
 before I had finished writing, so that I was forced 
 to put my book away in a hurry.. I thought
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 70 
 
 at first that something must have happened, and 
 stood waiting to hear what it was, but she bade 
 me be seated, and taking a chair herself she began 
 turning over my books. They were but few 
 my Bible and Prayer-book, the book of " Contem- 
 plations " my Lord gave me, and Spencer's Fairy 
 Queen, a present from Dick, besides my old Latin 
 grammar and Virgilius, which I had brought 
 partly for association's sake, and a volume of 
 father's sermons. 
 
 "Do you read your Bible every day?" she 
 asked, presently. 
 
 " Yes, my Lady," I replied. 
 
 "And do you understand all that you read?" 
 
 "No, my Lady," said I, adding: "I suppose 
 nobody does." 
 
 " Of course not, child. And what other books of 
 devotion have you?" 
 
 " None, my Lady, only this ;" and I showed her 
 the Bishop's " Contemplations," which I am read- 
 ing by course. She looked at it rather slightingly, 
 I thought, and laid it down. Then she began to 
 catechize me. Had I been confirmed ? Had I 
 received the Communion, and how many times? 
 Did I say my prayers, and how often?" and 
 finally " Did I fast ?" I did not quite know what 
 to answer, so she asked me again if I ate meat at 
 this holy season. I told her I did. 
 
 "And why do 3 T ou so?" she asked, sharply; 
 " there is always fish on my brother's table." 
 
 I told her that fish did not suit me ; that it
 
 76 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 made me ill, and that if I went without meat I had 
 the headache, and was not fit for my work : but that 
 I had always been used to deny myself in the 
 matter of dainties in time of Lent. She looked 
 but half satisfied. 
 
 "'Where there is a will there is a way,' " said she. 
 " If your heart were right, you would not mind 
 a little inconvenience. I will give you a book of 
 devotions, which you will do well to use, and 
 which will do you more good than all this Puritan 
 stuff!" giving my Lord's volume, a contemptuous 
 push from her. I was nettled to see her treat the 
 volume so, and said, I fear rather sharply : 
 
 " 'Tis no Puritan stuff, my Lady. It was writ by 
 the Bishop of Exeter, and I am sure he is a good 
 man, besides being a Bishop." 
 
 " It is not the rochet that makes the Bishop, or 
 the title either," said Lady Jemima. "An open 
 enemy is better than a half-hearted or treacherous 
 friend. Your Bishop Hall is no better than a 
 traitor, I fear. How do you like Mr. Penrose ?" 
 
 "Well enough," I said". 
 
 " But his preaching and services how do you 
 like them?" persisted Lady Jemima. 
 
 I was rather confused. I said I was not used 
 to that way of reading or speaking, and that Mr. 
 Penrose's sermons seemed to me not very clear. I 
 could not make out what he would be at, and it 
 seemed to me as if he did not quite know himself. 
 
 "That is a very improper way of speaking," 
 said Lady Jemima, with great sharpness. " You
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 77 
 
 should know that it is not your place to sit in 
 judgment on a priest. You would do much better 
 to learn in silence and humility, than to carp and 
 criticise." 
 
 I felt my face flush at her tone and manner, 
 which were very severe, and even contemptuous, 
 and I answered, quickly : 
 
 " You asked me, my Lady, and if I speak at all, 
 I must needs say what I think. I have no desire 
 to criticise bishop, priest, or deacon, unless I am 
 asked." 
 
 It was now Lady Jemima's turn to color, and she 
 bit her lip, as if she did not quite know what to 
 say. 
 
 "You are malipert, mistress!" she said, at last. 
 "I came to do you a kindness, but this is not 
 encouraging. I will leave you this book, however, 
 and I hope before I see you again you will have 
 come to a better mind." 
 
 And with that she rose, and laid a book on the 
 table. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my Lady, if I have displeas- 
 ed you," said I, seeing that she was about to go. 
 " I meant no offence." 
 
 She seemed mollified, sat down again, and began 
 giving me a lecture on my religious duties, as that 
 I ought to spend so many hours a day in reading 
 and devotion ; that I should learn by heart the 
 seven penitential psalms, and say them every day, 
 and so on. 
 
 " But, my Lady," said I, " if I were to do all that
 
 78 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 you have laid down for me, I should have no time 
 for my duty to Lady Betty, which is my chief 
 business, and for which my Lady keeps and pays 
 me." 
 
 " You should serve God first of all," said she, 
 solemnly : "no matter what other interests may 
 suffer. How do you expect to go to heaven unless 
 you give up your whole life to God's service ? 
 The work of the longest life may not be sufficient to 
 secure your salvation, and yours may, for aught you 
 know, be very short. You may die this very 
 night !" And then, the clock striking ten, she 
 went away, much to my relief. The book she left 
 was one of devotions and prayers for the seven 
 canonical hours, which seein very good, though to 
 use them all, methinks, would occupy the most of 
 the day. 
 
 April 11. 
 
 Lady Betty has begun to spell words of two 
 syllables. She learns very fast, and since she has 
 really found out that reading means getting stories 
 out of books, she is so eager to get on that I have to 
 check her. She is usually very good, I must say, 
 but now and then I have a little scene with her. 
 She h.icl a great crying time this morning because 
 the little dog Mr. Corbet promised her has not yet 
 come. I tried to soothe and quiet her, but sho only 
 screamed the louder, and struck right and left. As 
 I came near her, she struck me a severe blow, and 
 really hurt me. At last I said to her, " Lady Betty
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 79 
 
 unless you try to stop crying and be good, I 
 cannot tell you any story to-night." (I have lately 
 told her a story every night.) But she would not 
 be still, till at last the door opened suddenly, and 
 there was my Lord. 
 
 " What's all this ?" he said, angrily. " "What is 
 this noise enough to deafen one ?" 
 
 He spoke very liarshh 7 , I thought, and Lady 
 Betty stopped crying and seemed to shrink into 
 herself. 
 
 "What are you about, Mistress Merton, to 
 suffer this uproar?" continued my Lord, turning to 
 me. 
 
 I said that Lady Betty had been disappointed 
 about her dog, which Mr. Corbet had promised 
 her. 
 
 " Then, if she does not be quiet, I will have the 
 dog's neck broken when it does come. Mr. 
 Corbet had better rniiid his own business. He is 
 not master quite yet, I trow. And for you, Betty, 
 I will try what virtue lies in a birch rod, if I hear 
 any more noise. You are cosseted and cockered 
 out of all reason." So saying, he shut the door 
 violently and went away. * 
 
 Poor Betty had sunk down into a shapeless 
 neap in her chair, and was quite silent. I went to 
 her, and found her shivering and trembling, as if 
 in an ague fit. I took her in my arms, and she 
 burst out into a fit of crying not frantic scream- 
 ing, as before, but deep drawn sobs, which seemed 
 to rend her bosom.
 
 8o Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 " Oh, if I had only never been born ! if I had 
 only never been born !" I heard her say over and 
 over to herself, as her head lay on my shoulder. 
 
 " You should not wish yourself dead, my love 1" 
 I began, but she interrupted me. 
 
 "I didn't say I wished to die. That would 
 make my mother sorry. I wished I had never 
 been born at all, and then nobody would have 
 cared. I wish God had not made me!" she 
 added, with a fresh burst of sobs. " I don't see 
 why He did. I. am of no use to anybody, and 
 now I have angered my father, and you, and " 
 The poor little head went down again. 
 
 " I am not angry, my dear !" said I, which was 
 true, as far as she was concerned, though I confess 
 I was angry enough with my Lord. " I am sorry 
 that you have been naughty, but I am not angry. 
 I think you will try to be good now, and stop 
 sobbing, for that will make you sick and vex your 
 mother, and I am sure you would not wish to do 
 that." 
 
 She did really try to be quiet, but it was of no 
 use. The sobs would come, in spite of her. At 
 last, however, she grew more composed, and lay 
 still, with her head on my breast. I held her 
 in silence for a little while, my heart aching for the 
 poor thing. Presently she raised her face, all 
 stained with tears, and said, in a quivering voice : 
 " Oh, I am so tired !" 
 
 " Poor dear !" said I, kissing her : " I will sing 
 to you, and you shall go to sleep, and feel better."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 81 
 
 " I shall never feel better," said slie, pitifully. 
 " I am tired all the time tired of everything. I 
 shall never be rested, I know. Is it wicked to 
 wish I had nevej* been born for indeed I cannot 
 help it?" 
 
 I did not quite know what to say. It seemed to 
 me, that in her case, I should wish the same. 
 
 "And now I have angered my father again," she 
 continued : " and I have hurt you, and all and oh, 
 Margaret" and her poor frame quivered with 
 new excitement "do you think papa will have 
 my dog's neck broken when it comes ?" 
 
 " No, my dear love," I answered her : " not 
 if yon are good. Don't disturb yourself about 
 that. I do not think my Lord will let the dog be 
 hurt, unless you are very naughty about it." 
 
 "But he he said he would, and he is angry 
 with me, and wont forgive me, nor come and see 
 me. Oh, Margaret, do ask him to forgive me, and 
 not let my poor dog be killed !" 
 
 "I will, by and by," said I, "but not now." 
 For the truth was I did not believe my Lord would 
 think of the matter again after he had gotten over 
 his fit of temper, which seemed to me quite as bad 
 as Betty's, if noli worse. " I will ask him at supper 
 time. I do not think he would like it if I were to 
 go to him at present. Now let me wash your face 
 and make you neat before my Lady comes in." 
 
 She was very docile now, and I dressed her 
 without any trouble. She was very tired, so I laid 
 her on the bed and sat down by her. 
 
 6
 
 82 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 "Margaret," said she, presently, "how can I 
 help being angry ?" 
 
 " I don't know that you can help feeling angry," 
 said I ; " but I will tell you how I help it some- 
 times. I just shut my mouth and don't say one 
 word, only I repeat to myself the prayer for chari- 
 ty, and the Lord's prayer : and if I am firm, and 
 don't let myself speak one word, I can generally 
 put down the feeling pretty soon : but if I begin 
 to talk, all is over !" 
 
 "I didn't suppose you were ever angry," said 
 Lady Betty. 
 
 "I have naturally a very hasty temper," I 
 answered. " I don't believe yours is any more so." 
 
 " But you had such a nice home, I should not 
 think that you would ever have had anything to 
 vex you." 
 
 I could not help smiling as I thought of Felicia. 
 I told Betty I did not believe there was any place 
 in the world where there was not plenty of provo- 
 cation of one sort or another. 
 
 "There wont be any in heaven, I suppose," said 
 she, wistfully. 
 
 "No," I told her. "Everything will be good 
 and peaceful there." 
 
 " But I am afraid I shall never go to heaven !" 
 she continued, sadly. " Only good girls go to 
 heaven, and I am not good, though I do try to 
 be !" she added, earnestly. " Nobody knows how 
 hard I try to be good, sometimes !" 
 
 " Your Father in heaven knows," said I. " Ho
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 83 
 
 knows all your hindrances, too, and will help you. 
 Now lie still and try to sleep, and I will* sing for 
 
 you." 
 
 She dropped asleep presently, for she was very 
 tired, and I sat still by her side, holding her hands. 
 My head was very full of thoughts. " Only good 
 girls go to heaven !" Then what am I to clo ? I 
 am not good, I know very well. Surely I must be 
 better than I am, if I am to escape at last. 
 
 Lady Betty waked when the bell rung for chapel, 
 and Mary came with her supper. She said she 
 did not want any, rather fretfully at first, and then, 
 as if recollecting herself, she added : 
 
 " But I will try to eat something, Mary." 
 
 " That is a good little lady !" returned Mary, 
 who is always kind and patient. "Eat your 
 supper, and let Mrs. Margaret go to chapel." 
 
 "But you will do what I asked yon, wont you, 
 Margaret?" asked Lady Betty. "I can't go to 
 sleep to-night unless you do." 
 
 I promised her that I would do my best, and 
 having arranged my dress, I went down to chapel. 
 
 It being Friday, Mr. Penrose preached a short 
 sermon. I don't recollect the verse of Scripture, 
 but the real text was poor Betty's, " You can't go 
 to heaven unless you are good." He spoke much 
 of the duties of fasting and mortification, and of 
 our making satisfaction for our sins by repentance 
 and good works. I am sure I never heard such a 
 sermon from my father, but papa's discourses were 
 generally very simple and plain. Mr. Penrose is
 
 84 Lady Betty s Governess ; or> 
 
 a good speaker, when one is used to his voice, and 
 certainly he seems very much in earnest, especially 
 when he spoke of the horrors of perdition and 
 the anger of God against sinners. His sermon 
 made me miserable if that does one any good. 
 1 did not forget my promise to poor Betty, and 
 waited for my Lord as he came in to supper. He 
 had slept, by the way, all through the sermon. 
 He looked pleasant enough, and seeing me stand- 
 ing there, he stopped and said, in his usual cheerful, 
 jovial voice : 
 
 "Well, Mistress Mertou, what can I do for 
 
 you?" 
 
 I told him my errand, adding that Lady Betty 
 was very unhappy, thinking that he was angry 
 with her. He stared as if he had forgotten all 
 about the matter, then said, as if he were a little 
 ashamed, as well as sorry, I thought : 
 
 " Oh, poor thing, does she think so much of my 
 words as that ? Tell her I am not angry with her, 
 only she must be a good girl, and not do so any 
 more." 
 
 "And about the dog?" I ventured to say. 
 "Lady Betty has so set her heart upon it, I hardly 
 know what she would do it it were killed. May I 
 tell her that you do not mean to " 
 
 " Of course," said he, interrupting me with some 
 indignation in his voice. "Whoever thought of 
 killing the poor thing? I wonder you should 
 think of such a thing. What do you take me for, 
 Mistress Merton ?"
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 85 
 
 "For a man who throws stones, and then 
 wonders that any one should be so foolish as to be 
 hit," I thought, but I only said, "I thank your 
 Lordship. I will set poor Lady Betty's mind at 
 rest, then." 
 
 " Of course. And here, give her this," said he, 
 giving me a gold piece from his pocket. 
 
 " Much use she has for money, poor thing; a few 
 kind words would be worth far more," I thought, 
 but I said no more. I sat next Mr. Penrose at 
 supper, and noticed that he ate almost nothing 
 only brown bread and cheese. Me thought he 
 looked reprovingly at my dish of cream and slice 
 of white bread. He has been in Chester, and we 
 had a pleasant little talk about that part of the 
 country. I think I could like him well enough if 
 he were not so solemn. 
 
 I set poor Betty's mind at rest by giving her my 
 Lord's message and present, at which she was 
 wondrously delighted, and said again and again 
 how good he was. I did not see the great good- 
 ness, but I was content that she should think so.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 April 15. 
 
 [HIS is Holy-week, and I Lave very little 
 time to write in rny journal. I am trying 
 to pursue tlie course of devotions Lady 
 Jemima gave me, and of which Mr. Pen- 
 rose highly approves ; and that, with my attendance 
 on Lady Betty, takes all my time. Lady Betty 
 has not been so well, and is rather fretful and 
 exacting. I try to have patience with her, but it is 
 hard work, sometimes. 
 
 I don't know what to do about receiving the 
 Sacrament at Easter. I don't like to miss it, but 
 Mr. Penrose and Lady Jemima say so much of 
 the peril of unworthily receiving. Lady Jemima 
 is very kind to me, and gives me much good 
 advice. I told her that I felt very unhappy be- 
 cause I was no better, and she said that was right 
 that we ought constantly to contemplate our sins 
 and short comings in order to make us humble and 
 contrite, and that it became sinners, in a state of 
 probation, and likely to be called to judgment at 
 anv time, to be grave and sad. 
 (86)
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 87 
 
 I have no time now to read the " Contemplations," 
 and not much for the Scripture. To be sure, we 
 hear it in chapel every day. 
 
 April 17. 
 
 Betty said to me, this morning :. " You are not my 
 sunshiny Margaret, any more.. You look so solemn 
 all the time, just like Aunt' Jemima!" 
 
 And with that she .polled a long face, and put 
 on a look so exactly like her aunt that I could not 
 forbear laughing ; at which she laughed too. I 
 don't look anymore sober than I feel, however. 
 Mr. Penrose's sermons have made me realize the 
 things of eternity more than ever I did before, 
 and they are dreadful to me. To be sure, there 
 is heaven, but how am I to know it is to bo my 
 portion ? How can I know that my repentance is 
 sufficient that my sorrow for sin is real and sin- 
 cere ? And I have been such a sinner ! In looking 
 back over my life I can see nought but sin. Sin 
 where I never suspected it before and nothing 
 good anywhere : and the harder I try to conquer 
 myself the worse I am. 
 
 Lady Betty's doll is finished. She is very much 
 pleased with it, and we have had many games of 
 play at " making believe :" she being the mo- 
 ther, and I by turns doctor, nurse, and aunt. 
 
 "But if you are an aunt you must be cross," 
 said Betty, this morning : " aunts are always 
 cross." 
 
 'O no!" I answered. "By no means. My
 
 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 dear Aunt Magdalen was not cross, nor aunt "Will- 
 son." 
 
 " Aunt Jemima is almost always, I mean," per- 
 sisted Betty. 
 
 " Aunt Jemima is always what ?" asked the lady, 
 who had come in softly, in time to hear Betty's 
 words for the door being set open for the sake of 
 air, and Lady Jemima always walking like a cat, we 
 had not heard her approach. 
 
 "Aunt Jemima is always what?" 
 
 "Cross!" answered Lady Betty, simply. "But 
 I suppose you can't help it, can you, Aunt Je- 
 mima ?" 
 
 Lady Jemima colored, but she did not answer 
 Betty directly. Presently she said, " "Who made 
 you that great doll ?" 
 
 " Margaret," answered Betty. " She has just 
 finished it." And she began to display all the per- 
 fections of the rag baby. Lady Jemima looked at 
 the clothes, and said that they were neatly 
 made. 
 
 " But, Margaret," said she, " I have come to sit 
 with Betty while you go down to the chapel." 
 
 " It is not chapel time," objected Betty ; " and I 
 don't want Margaret to go away." 
 
 " But Margaret wants to say her prayers, if it is 
 not chapel time," returned Lady Jemima. " You 
 would not be so selfish as to keep her from them, 
 would you ? It would be much better for you to 
 oe saying your own, than to be playing with your 
 .loll, at such a time."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 89 
 
 " "Well, she may go, if she wants to," said Betty, 
 rather sadly. 
 
 So I went down and said my prayers in the 
 empty chapel, out of the book Lady Jemima gave 
 me ; but I cannot say I found any great comfort 
 therein. Lady Betty's sad, grieved face haunted 
 me all the time, and I could think of nothing but 
 getting back to her. When I finally returned, 
 I found Lady Betty sitting looking out of the 
 window, with her elbow on the sill, and her chin 
 on her hand. Lady Jemima was reading to her 
 out of the Bible, but I don't think she paid any 
 attention. 
 
 "When Lady Jemima saw I had come back, she 
 ceased her reading, and rose, but Lady Betty did 
 not look round nor move. 
 
 " Good-by, Betty," said Lady Jemima. 
 
 " Good-by," said Betty. 
 
 "When her aunt left the room, she said, sorrowfully 
 enough, " Don't you love me any more, Margaret ?' ' 
 
 " Of course I do !" said I, sitting down by her. 
 " Why should you ask me such a question?" 
 
 " Aunt Jemima says you don't," replied the 
 child. " She says I am so selfish." 
 
 " Selfish about what ?" I asked. 
 
 " She said it was selfish in me to let you work 
 so hard at the doll just to please me, when there 
 are so many poor people that need clothes, and 
 that that " 
 
 " Nonsense !" said I. I could not help it, so 
 vexed was I at Lady Jemima. " I was very glad
 
 90 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 to make the doll, and shall be always glad to do 
 anything for you." 
 
 She brightened a little on this, but I could see 
 all the afternoon that she was cast down, and 
 I was sorry enough that I had left her to her aunt, 
 who, good as she is, never seems to come near 
 Betty without hurting her in some way. After all, 
 my work here is to take care of Betty, and I don't 
 believe God means I should let her suffer foi the 
 sake of saying my prayers, more than anything 
 else. 
 
 April 18. 
 
 I have had a sharp dispute with Mr. Penrose. 
 I had been walking as far as the Abbey ruin 
 in the park, when he joined me : and after some 
 discourse, began to ask me what I was reading. 
 I told him that I was reading the Bishop's 
 " Contemplations ;" whereat he spoke slightingly of 
 the book, and said he would give me something 
 better. Now, when I have learned to love a book 
 as I have this one, 'tis all the same to me as 
 a friend, and I cannot bear to hear it spoken 
 against ; so I answered something quickly, that I 
 wanted nothing better, and beside that, I had 
 promised to read it. 
 
 "But, Mistress Merton," said Mr. Penrose, 
 "are you sure that you are the best judge? 
 Am not I, your pastor, best fitted to direct your 
 reading ? And if I tell you that any book is unfit 
 for you, are you to sit in judgment on what I say?"
 
 Tiie Corbet Chronicles. 91 
 
 " Why not ?" I answered, hotly enough : " since 
 you yourself, as it seems, presume to sit in 
 judgment on your Bishop ?" 
 
 He was silent a moment, and did seem somewhat 
 taken aback. Then he said, " You are something 
 sharp. What is the Bishop to you, that you 
 defend him so earnestly ?" 
 
 " He has been a good friend to me and mine," 
 I answered ; " and he is a good man, and a good 
 preacher. He preached the best sermon in our 
 parish church that ever I heard in all my life." 
 
 I saw he was touched at this, and I was wicked 
 enough to be glad I had given him a pinch, 
 though no such thing was in my thought when 
 I spoke. 
 
 " Then," said he, " I am to conclude that my 
 preaching does not please yo'u ?' ? 
 
 " I don't sit in judgment on it," I said, demurely. 
 Then willing to turn the conversation, I said, 
 looking up to the great window which is still 
 almost entire : " What a splendid pile this must 
 have been in its day !" 
 
 " Ah, yes !" he answered. " There was piety 
 and zeal in England in those days." 
 
 " And is there none now ?" I asked. 
 
 " Nay !" said he ; " where do we hear now of 
 bodies of 'men and women retiring to devote them- 
 selves to Gdd and His service, as in those days ? 
 Now every priest must have his house and his 
 wife and children. The service of His Maker is 
 not enough for him."
 
 92 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 "You can hardly expect me to quarrel with 
 that, since I am a priest's daughter," said I, laugh- 
 ing. " And does not St. Paul himself say both of 
 bishops and deacons that they should be the 
 husband of one wife? Besides," I added, more 
 soberly, "I see no need of people retiring into 
 convents and abbeys to serve God. "Why should 
 we not serve him in the daily work He has given 
 us to do?" 
 
 " 'Tis a good thought, at least," he said, and so 
 we parted good friends at last. 
 
 April 20. 
 
 "Well, Easter is passed and gone. I know not 
 whether I spent it well or ill. I did not go to the 
 service in the chapel, but, with my Lady's permis- 
 sion, walked down to the church in the village. 
 The old rector preached on the Resurrection a 
 mild and gentle sermon enough, not very deep or 
 brilliant, as are Mr. Carey's, nor so solemn and 
 awful as those of Mr. Penrose ; but somehow I felt 
 it comforting and soothing ; and though I shed 
 many tears, they were not all sad. I went to the 
 Sacrament with fear and trembling, but the words, 
 "Come unto me!" and the others, did seem a voice 
 bidding me draw near so I went. There were a 
 good many communicants, and all were serious 
 and devout. I specially noticed a large and 
 majestic old man, supported by his son, as I 
 suppose, who approached the table. He stumbled 
 a little at the step, whereat Mr. Corbet, whom I
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 93 
 
 had not seen before, came forward and took his 
 other arm. After the service, as I waited a little 
 in the church-yard to speak to Mistress Parnell, 
 this same old man came out of the church door, 
 leaning on Mr. Corbet's arm. 
 
 " And so, Master "Watty, your lady mother is 
 coming among us again?" I heard the old man 
 say. "I hope I shall be able to pay my duty to 
 her ; but the path grows steep to my old feet now- 
 u-days." 
 
 Mr. Corbet made him some pleasant answer, and 
 then fell into conversation with the son a man of 
 about his own age. Meantime Doctor and Mis- 
 tress Parnell came along and spoke to me. 
 
 " Did you not have service in the chapel at the 
 Court to-day?" asked the Doctor, after he had 
 saluted me politely. " I understood it was to be 
 so?" 
 
 I told him that it was so, but that my Lady had 
 given me leave to walk down to the village. " The 
 parish church seems to me so much more pleasant 
 and homelike than the chapel !" I ventured to add. 
 " It does not seem like the church, where there are 
 no poor people, and no school-children." 
 
 The train of school-girls passed us at this 
 moment, with their mistress walking behind them, 
 and leaning on the arm of the oldest girl. She 
 was quite elderly, and looked feeble, but had one 
 of the finest and sweetest faces I ever saw. 
 
 "You must find time to visit our school and 
 aimsliouses, and that will make you feel still more
 
 94 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 at home!" said Doctor Parnell, kindly. "We 
 have plenty of poor people here, as everywhere 
 else. There is a poor woman down at the Cove, 
 who was brought to bed last night, and is but 
 poorly off for clothes. If you will mention the 
 case to my Lady, perhaps she can do something 
 for them." 
 
 " I will," said I : and just at that moment a plan 
 popped into my mind, which I hope to bring to 
 good effect. Mistress Parnell would have had me 
 stop at the Rectory and take some refreshment, 
 but I excused myself, knowing that Betty would 
 count the hours and minutes till my return, and 
 hastened toward home by the shortest path. I 
 stopped a moment at the entrance of the glen 
 walk, to gather some wild flowers for my child, 
 when Mr. Corbet overtook me and walked the rest 
 of the way by my side. He asked after Betty, 
 and sent her a kindly message, and told me his 
 mother was coming to Exeter in the Bishop's 
 company to-morrow, and that he should meet her 
 there, and bring her home. 
 
 " That will be pleasant to you," I said. 
 
 "I want you to know my mother," said Mr. 
 Corbet. "She is one of a thousand. Nobody 
 ever knew her without being the better for it." 
 
 "I think nobody can be like one's mother!" I 
 said, and then I stopped and choked, and had 
 much ado not to burst out crying, as I thought of 
 my own dear mother, and how last Easter we were 
 all together father, and Dick, and all !
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 95 
 
 Mr. Corbet took no notice of my emotion, and 
 presently began talking of other things. He asked 
 me if I had noticed that tall old man in church ? 
 I said I had, and asked who he was. 
 
 " That is old Uncle Jan Lee !" replied Mr. Cor- 
 bet, smiling ; " uncle to half the village and all the 
 Cove. He sailed with my father around the world, 
 in Franky Drake's expedition, and can tell you 
 tales by the hour about those times. He and his 
 nephew, Will Atkins, have been my sworn friends 
 ever since I could run alone, and I owe them far 
 more than my own life. I will tell you the story 
 some day though perhaps I had better not," he 
 added, with his sudden smile, which lights up his 
 *rave face at times like a flash of sunshine. " It 
 would not be wise in me to do so, for the tale does 
 not tell very well for me, and I should be loth to 
 lose 3 - our good opinion, Mistress Merton." 
 
 I don't see what my good opinion has to do with 
 him. I am only a poor parson's daughter, and a 
 governess, to make the very best of my position. 
 However, we had a very pleasant walk, and I must 
 say I have felt better and happier since than I 
 have done for a long time. I suppose the long 
 walk in the fresh air may have something to do 
 with the matter, for I do miss the exercise I was 
 used to take at home. 
 
 I went up to my child, and was glad to hear 
 Mary say that she had been very good ; but the 
 tears came to the poor thing's eyes as she kissed 
 me.
 
 96 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 "I wish I could go to church !" said she. "I 
 do get so tired of this room all the time !" 
 
 It is no wonder, poor dear ! I mean she shall 
 have a change of scene, now that there are no 
 strangers in the house to stare at her. 
 
 When I sat down to dinner with the rest, I 
 thought Mr. Penrose looked mighty stiff and dis- 
 satisfied, and I wondered what the matter was. 
 Presently, however, it all came out : 
 
 " I did not see you in chapel, Mistress Merton !" 
 said he to me, when the dinner was fairly in pro- 
 gress. "Why was that?" 
 
 I felt in very good spirits, and not, I am afraid, 
 in any mood to be catechised ; so I answered mer- 
 rily enough : " I am not sure, Mr. Penrose, but I 
 think it must have been because I was not there ;" 
 and then seeing that he looked a little displeased, 
 I added that I had been to church at the village. 
 
 " Yes, I saw you walking home !" 
 
 "Oh, you did!" thought I. "Then why need 
 you ask me anything about the matter?" 
 
 " I hope you enjoyed the services !" he said, in 
 a tone which contradicted his Vords. 
 
 " I did," I answered. " It seemed like being at 
 homo again." 
 
 "I had hoped, however, to see all the family 
 present at the chapel," said Mr. Penrose ; " and 
 said so to my Lady. I presume, however, you had 
 her permission for absenting yourself?" 
 
 " I should not be very likely to go without it !" 
 I replied with some heat, for I was vexed at his
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 97 
 
 tone arid manner. " If you doubt my word, you 
 had better ask my Lady herself." 
 
 By ill-luck occurred at this moment one of those 
 unaccountable silences which will fall at such times, 
 and my words were heard the length of the table. 
 My Lady looked up, and said, smiling, while all 
 eyes were turned on us : 
 
 "What is that which is to be referred to me, 
 Mistress Merton ?" 
 
 I don't know whether I felt more like sinking 
 into the earth, or boxing his ears who had brought 
 me into this scrape : however, I answered, smiling 
 in my turn, though my cheeks were as hot as 
 fire : 
 
 " Mr. Penrose seems to think I have been play- 
 ing truant, my Lady, in going to the village church 
 this morning; but I tell him that you gave me 
 leave to do so." 
 
 " I did so, certainly !" answered rny Lady. " I 
 thought you would feel yourself more at home, 
 being a clergyman's daughter, and used to a parish 
 church. I trust you had a pleasant time !" 
 
 " I did indeed, my Lady," said I. " I enjoyed 
 it very much." 
 
 " Especially the walk home," said Mr. Penrose, 
 in an undertone, intended only for my ear. I was 
 so vexed I would not speak to him again all dinner- 
 time. I am afraid, after all, that I am not much the 
 better for my church-going but Mr. Penrose was 
 certainly very provoking. 
 
 After dinner I gave my Lady Doctor Parn ell's 
 
 7
 
 98 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 message, and then opened my plan to her, which 
 was to set Lady Betty to work on some clothes for 
 tho poor babes. I told her I thought it would 
 inako an interest for Lady Betty outside of herself 
 that it would divert her, and be good for her in 
 many ways. She seemed much pleased, I thought, 
 and gave me leave to do as I saw fit, only caution- 
 ing me against letting the child overtire herself, as 
 she is apt to do with any new fancy. 
 
 " You look brighter and better than you have 
 done lately !" observed my Lady. " I have feared 
 that you were finding your work too hard for 
 you." 
 
 " It is not hard at all, but too easy, if anything !" 
 I answered. " Lady Betty makes me no trouble. 
 I only wish I could do more for her." And then 
 I told my Lady what I had thought of that Lady 
 Betty would be better for a change, and for more 
 exercise, and I asked her if I might not have her 
 chair carried into the long gallery on the other 
 side of the house, and encourage Lady Betty to 
 walk there a little. 
 
 She seemed pleased at first ; then, to my surprise, 
 hesitated, and said she would speak to my Lord. 
 I did not see why he should object, but afterward, 
 talking with Mrs. Judith, when Betty was asleep, 
 the murder came out. My Lord is ashamed of his 
 oor little humpbacked girl, and does not like to 
 nave people see her, forsooth ! It is a fine thing 
 to be a man and a nobleman, to be sure. If one 
 is to look up to them so much, 'tis a pity that they
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 99 
 
 are not a little higher, so that one need not have 
 to go down on one's knees in the dirt ! 
 
 Easter Monday. 
 
 My Lord has given his gracious consent, and so 
 his morning Mary and I pushed Lady Betty in 
 her chair across into the long gallery, and placed 
 her at a sunny window. It was touching to see 
 her delight. The gallery is a fine one, with a noble 
 vaulted ceiling, and is hung with many family 
 pieces, besides old armor and weapons. 
 
 After Betty had rested a while, I proposed that 
 she should try to walk as far as the next window. 
 
 '' But it hurts me to walk !" she said. 
 
 " I dare say it does, my love !" said I, " but I 
 want to see whether you cannot, by degrees, get 
 to walk without its hurting } r ou. Just think, if you 
 can once learn to use your limbs, how many nice 
 /things you could do." 
 
 "Well, I will try!" said she : "I will do any- 
 thing for you, Margaret, because I love you so." 
 
 " You are my dear good little girl," said I, kissing 
 her, while the thought passed through my mind, 
 " Love makes easy service !" 
 
 Betty walked to the next window easily enough, 
 and was so pleased with her progress that sho 
 would have gone still farther, but that I would not 
 allow. 
 
 " No, you have done enough for once," said I. 
 "If this does not hurt you, you shall walk into, 
 my pretty room, and 1 will show you the pictures
 
 ioo Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 of my little brother and sisters." For having a 
 knack at drawing, I had sketched a little portrait 
 of each of the children before leaving homo, and 
 the likeness was not contemptible. "See, here 
 comes good Mrs. Carev. How surprised she 
 will be!" 
 
 Mrs. Carey was surprised enough to satisfy all 
 our expectations. She said she was sure Lady 
 Betty needed some refreshment; and going back 
 to her room she brought us some gingerbread and 
 dried pears, and some milk. So we had quite a 
 feast. 
 
 " I wish, Cousin Judith, you would tell us some- 
 thing about the picture," said Betty. The ladies 
 all call Mrs. Carey, Cousin Judith. " Tell me who 
 is that beautiful dame with the pearls in her black 
 hair?" 
 
 " That is your great aunt, Lady Rosamond, who 
 set up the almshouses," said Mrs. Carey. 
 
 " And who is that old lady in the close coif and 
 black veil?" I asked. " She looks like a nun." 
 
 " And so she was a nun. That is Mrs. Margaret 
 Vernon, my dears. She was a Lady Abbess of 
 Hartland, and brought up your grandmother, niy 
 old Lady. So after King Henry put down the 
 convents she came and ended her days with great 
 content at Stanton Court. Mistress Corbet says 
 she can just remember her, a very aged lady." 
 
 "And who is that beautiful fair woman in 
 black ?" I asked. " I never saw a lovelier face, if 
 she were not so pale. But she looks very sad."
 
 77/<? Corbet Chronicles. 101 
 
 " That is called the fair Dame of Stanton !" said 
 Mrs. Judith ; and then followed a long tale, too 
 long to write here. 
 
 "Anne says my Cousin Corbet is the fair dame 
 come back again !" said Betty, " and that it was 
 she who made me crooked by her arts ; but Mary 
 says it is not true." 
 
 " Of course it is not true !" returned Mrs. Judith, 
 indignantly. " I wonder at you, Lady Betty, for 
 listening to such stuff about your dear cousin, who 
 has always been so kind to you ; and I will give 
 Anne a good rating, that I will! There has 
 been mischief enough done by such talk, before 
 now. Everybody knows how your misfortune 
 happened, my dear, and that was by being shrew- 
 struck beshrew the careless wench by whom it 
 carne about." 
 
 " How was that T' I asked ; " and what do you 
 mean by being shrew-struck?" 
 
 " Bless you, my dear, don't you know ? It was 
 Judith Hawtree did the mischief, not that she 
 meant it, 'but evil is wrought by want of thought,' 
 my dears. Old Mary left my Lady Betty in her 
 charge, awhile ; and what does Judith do, but lay 
 the child down under the tree on the grass to 
 sleep, while she gossipped with her sweetheart. 
 There were always shrew-mice in the park, and one 
 of them no doubt ran over my poor dear lady as 
 he lay asleep on the ground, for there were the 
 marks of its feet on her dress, and from that time 
 the troubles begun."
 
 IO2 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 "Perhaps it was not tlie shrew-mouse, after all," 
 I ventured to say. " Perhaps Lady Betty took 
 cold from lying on the damp ground. It seems 
 more reasonable, than that a mouse should cripple 
 a child by just running over its dress once." 
 
 "Ah, well! That may be your notion, Mrs. 
 Merton. For my part, I don't pretend to be so 
 much wiser than my father and mother before 
 me," said the old lady, rather offended. " I don't 
 profess to understand how a sting-nettle, that 
 looks much like any other plant, should poison 
 one's hand for hours ; but I know it does. Any- 
 how the poor child pined from that day ; but it is 
 absurd and wicked too, to bring up that old stoiy, 
 which once nearly cost the dear lady her life." 
 
 And then she told me that Mrs. Corbet had once 
 been taken for a witch, and assaulted by the vil- 
 lage rabble, so that she would have lost her life, 
 but for the valor of the old schoolmaster, Master 
 Holliday, and Will Atkins, "for Master Walty, 
 he was away on some wild goose chase or other. 
 He was but a wild lad then, though he is sober 
 enough now, with his Puritan notions and ways." 
 
 " What Puritan ways ?" I ventured to ask, but 
 got no answer, for just then Lady Betty said she 
 was tired, and we took her back to her room again. 
 If she seems no worse to-morrow, I shall try again. 
 I do not despair' of getting her out of doors. 
 
 Wednesday. 
 Lady Betty was no worse for her journey, and
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 103 
 
 yesterday we tried it again. I let her walk the 
 length of two windows, and then she sat a long 
 time looking out and watching the deer, which 
 were feeding out in the open spaces of the wood, 
 listening to the birds, and seeing the rooks, which 
 are now busy with their nests. We were much 
 amused to see them stealing twigs from each 
 other. While we were looking at them, Mr. 
 Penrose came along, and stopped to talk, but he 
 was, rnethought, awkward and restrained, and I 
 did not give him much encouragement, for I felt 
 vexed at him ; so he soon went away. At supper 
 there arose, I know not how, a debate on the 
 celibacy of the clergy. My Lord and Lady were 
 for having them marry, and my Lord made some 
 not very delicate jokes on the subject, I thought. 
 Lady Jemima was vehemently against them, and, 
 as her fashion is, grew very warm, and said some 
 sharp things. Mr. Penrose appealed to me 
 small thanks to him for drawing the notice of the 
 whole table upon me. I said, what was true 
 enough, that I had never thought about the mat- 
 ter, but presumed it could not be wrong, as St. 
 Peter and St. James at least had wives, as did 
 some other of the apostles : and St. Paul expressly 
 said that a Bishop was to be the husband of ono 
 wife ; but, I added, that it did not seem to rao 
 desirable that clergymen should think of marrying 
 till they were settled and knew what they were 
 likely to have to live on. Whereat my Lady smiled, 
 and Mr. Penrose looked womlrouslv dashed. I am
 
 IO4 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 sure I can't gness why. I don't see why it should 
 be anything to him. 
 
 Friday , April 25. 
 
 "Well, Betty has her dog at last, and a pretty, 
 gentle little creature it is, just fit for her to play 
 with. And I have something better brought by 
 the same kind hand. Mr. Corbet himself brought 
 the dog to Betty, as we were sitting in the gallery, 
 whither we now go every morning when the sun 
 shines ; and after she had become a little quieted 
 with her ecstasy, he turned to me. 
 
 " I have a token for you also, Mistress Merton, 
 if you will take it. My mother sends you this box, 
 as an Easter gift." 
 
 I took it, of course, with due thanks. 
 
 "Nay, open it," said he: "the best part is 
 within." 
 
 So I opened it, and there lay two letters real 
 goodly-sized letters one in Dick's hand, the 
 other I did not know. Mr. Corbet explained to me 
 that his mother had brought the one from London, 
 and the other had been sent in a packet of Mr. 
 Carey's to his friend in Exeter. I could hardly 
 believe my eyes, and I ain afraid my thanks were 
 clumsily expressed. However, Mr. Corbet ap- 
 peared satisfied, and, saying he knew I wished to 
 v ead them, he withdrew. I had hardly time for 
 more than a glance at them through the day, but 
 I have feasted on them this night to my heart's 
 content. One is from Dick, as I said ; the other
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. io5 
 
 from my Aunt "Willson, enclosing two gold pieces, 
 and telling me that she had made the acquaintance 
 of Mistress Corbet in London, who had kindly 
 offered to carry a parcel for her : so she sent me a 
 piece of fine lawn for kerchiefs and aprons, with 
 some laces and other small matters. 'Tis a kindly 
 letter, full of good counsel and sympathy, some- 
 what roughly expressed, as is Aunt Willson's 
 fashion. She says, in conclusion : " Remember, 
 child, to keep your place. Every man, woman 
 and child is respectable in his own place, what- 
 ever that may be, for the time." 
 
 Felicia also sends a note, written in rather a 
 mournful strain. I can see that she has found 
 trouble already, and I dare say she and aunt have 
 had more than one battle. She warns me against 
 expecting happiness in this world, as that is the 
 lot of but few certainly never of the dependent 
 and the poor. But I don't know that. I am both 
 poor and dependent, and I am reasonably happy 
 or should be, only for some things which have 
 naught to do with my condition in life. As for 
 poor Felicia, I don't believe her condition makes so 
 much difference with her. She always makes mo 
 think of a speech of one of the old almswomen at 
 Saintswell, about her daughter-in-law. The old 
 woman had been saying somewhat about her 
 laughter's fretting, when my mother remarked, 
 " All, well, Goody, I would not disturb myself about 
 the matter. You know poor Molly's way if she 
 had no trouble in the world, she would make it."
 
 io6 Lady Betty s Governess; or, 
 
 "Hek it!" cried the old dame, in her shrill 
 voice. " Mek it, madam she'd buy it !" 
 
 Dick's letter is like himself grave beyond his 
 years, full of kindness and of a certain land of 
 humor too. He tells me a great deal of new 
 about home matters, as that mother is well and 
 seems much more cheerful than she did in the 
 Bectory, and that she has taken to working in the 
 garden. The twins and Jacky are doing well in 
 school, and Jacky is much less forward and pert. 
 I can guess why. He says Mr. Carey is much 
 liked already in the parish, and is especially kind 
 to the poor women at the almshouses, though he 
 had a great argument with Dame Higgins on the 
 claims of the Romish church. My father would 
 never argue with her. He used to say 'twas a 
 case of " invincible ignorance," and there was no 
 use in fretting the poor old body, who, I verily be- 
 lieve, never remembers that she is a papist unless 
 somebody puts her in mind of it. However, this 
 dispute did not end in a quarrel, so it does not 
 matter. 
 
 Dick is getting on with his studies, and says his 
 master is very kind in giving him time to read ; 
 so that he feels doubly bound to serve him faith- 
 fully. He says Master Smith's shop is a kind of 
 rendezvous for all the learned men in Chester, and 
 that the Bishop himself sometimes drops in to 
 hear the news. He says, too, what I am very 
 sorry to hear, that public affairs grow more and 
 more disturbed, and that this attempt of the Arch-
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 107 
 
 bishop's to revive the book of Sunday sports, put 
 forth by King James, will cause great divisions 
 among the clergy. Dick's letter closes with a 
 gentle admonition to remember Goody Crump's 
 motto : " Tis all in the day's work." Ah, bu 
 then, if one cannot do one's day's work if the 
 more one tries the more hopeless it seems what 
 then ? 
 
 April 27. 
 
 Lady Jemima is going up to London to visit 
 her cousin, who is to be married soon. She 
 leaves next week. I should like to send a letter 
 by her to Aunt "Willson, but I don't like to take 
 the liberty of asking her. 
 
 My Lady again gave me leave to walk to the 
 village to church, saying that she would herself 
 remain with Lady Betty. She is wondrously kind 
 to me, and seems altogether satisfied with the 
 way that I manage the child. "Well, I was very 
 glad to go, and enjoyed my walk, as usual, pleasing 
 myself with the thought that I should hear good 
 Doctor Parnell ; when, lo and behold, I found, as 
 I entered the church, that the Doctor was gone 
 away, and Mr. Peurose was to preach. I could 
 not help feeling vexed and disappointed. His 
 sermon was on the text about the strait gate and 
 narrow way, and he drew a wonderful picture of 
 the difficulties of the way and the gate, assuring 
 us that even a life-long devotion, and that of the 
 most austere, would hardly be enough to win an
 
 io8 Lady Bettfs Governess; or, 
 
 entrance. Dick used to say that his religion made 
 him happy ; but I can't see how any one is to be 
 happy, according to Mr. Penrose working so 
 hard, with all our failings noted and set down 
 against us, and, hanging over all, the fear of final 
 failure and its dreadful consequences. Yet, if it 
 is true, of course one ought to know it. I must 
 say it makes me very wretched, and I don't know 
 what to do. My temper is so warm and iny feel- 
 ings so quick, that I am always saying and doing 
 what I wish unsaid and undone ; and sometimes, 
 the more I try the worse it seems to be with me. 
 The very effort makes me feel fretful and im- 
 patient. 
 
 I don't believe Mr. Corbet agrees with Mr. Pen- 
 rose in his notions. I saw him several times 
 glance at his mother, and slightly shake his head. 
 Mrs. Corbet is a beautiful old lady I think the 
 most beautiful I ever saw. She must be past 
 sixty a good deal, yet her eyes are bright and 
 clear, and her hair unchanged. To be sure, it is 
 so nearly silver in its natural color that a few gray 
 threads would not show. She seems quite feeble, 
 and, indeed, Mrs. Judith told me she had never 
 been really well since the time of the riot, when 
 she was struck down by a stone and otherwise 
 maltreated. She spoke to me kindly, and said 
 she would send me the parcel she had brought 
 from my aunt, or perhaps bring it to me, as she 
 meant to oome to the Great House before long. 
 
 Mr. Penrose came up with me as I was hurrying
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 109 
 
 home, and asked me why I walked so fast ? I told 
 him I was in haste to return to Lady Betty. 
 
 "The child Seems to love you very much," said 
 he. 
 
 " And I love her ;" I returned. " Nobody could 
 help it." 
 
 " Yet you must find your life somewhat irksome," 
 he went on to say. 
 
 "Not at all!""! answered. "Why should I? 
 ' Love makes easy service,' and besides she really 
 gives me very little trouble, considering all her 
 misfortunes. I knew what I was undertaking 
 when I came, and it has not been so hard as I 
 expected. Every one is kind to me, my Lady 
 especially, and as for the rest, why it does not 
 signify. ' 'Tis all in the day's work.' " 
 
 " My lady is kind to every one, 1 think," said 
 Mr. Penrose, to which I agreed. " 'Tis a pity she 
 has been so unfortunate with her children. If 
 the next child should prove a girl, or should not 
 live, Mr. Corbet will come to be lord of all." 
 
 " So I suppose," said I ; " but we will hope for 
 better things." 
 
 "Then you would not wish it?" he said, looking 
 at me. 
 
 "Wish what?" I asked. 
 
 " That Mr. Corbet should be lord of all !" 
 
 " Of course not !" I answered: "why should I? 
 Mr. Corbet is well enough off; beside that he is 
 nothing to me, and my Lord and Lady have been 
 my very good friends. I don't understand you at
 
 1 1 o Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 all and it seems to me that yon do not understand 
 yourself, very well !" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Merton, if I have 
 offended you," was all his answer. Then, after a 
 pause, "I suppose you were very much disap- 
 pointed at seeing me in Doctor Parnell's pulpit?" 
 
 "What could I say ? I was disappointed, but I 
 would not tell him so. I said I was surprised, as 
 I did not know that the Doctor was away. So 
 then we walked the rest of the way in silence. It 
 seems we never can meet peaceably. I wanted to 
 talk to him about his sermon, but of course I could 
 not, after that. I do think he is very odd. 
 
 Monday, 28. 
 
 Lady Jemima kas herself offered to carry a 
 letter to my aunt, so I have written one to her, and 
 one to Felicia the latter as kind as I could make 
 it. I am certainly glad that she has gone away, 
 but yet I can see, now that we are separated, that 
 I was often to blame in our quarrels. 
 
 After I had finished my letters, I went to carry 
 them to Lady Jemima's room, where I had never 
 been before. It is very bare and plain more so 
 than mine and looks, I fancy, like a nun's cell. 
 She has several religious pictures, and many books 
 of devotion, but none other, that I saw. Her bed 
 looked hard, and as if it had very little covering 
 upon it, and there was not even a nig by the bed- 
 side. Lady Jemima was looking over a great basket 
 of work, not tapestry work, or any such thiug, but
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 1 1 1 
 
 coarse garments of various kinds. She made me 
 welcome, and bade me sit down. 
 
 "What are you busy about with your needle ?" 
 said she. 
 
 I told her (what I forgot to mention in the righ 
 place), that I was making some clothes for the 
 twins of the poor fisherman's widow down at the 
 Cove, and that Lady Betty was helping me about 
 them adding that I was at work on a christening 
 frock, for which my Lady had given me the mate- 
 rial. She seemed pleased, but when I added that 
 I liked the work because it made me think of home, 
 she said, decidedly : 
 
 " That is not a proper motive, child ! You should 
 do it because it is right, and because our Lord has 
 commanded it not because it gives you plea- 
 sure !" 
 
 " But suppose it gives me pleasure to do what is 
 right, my Lady?" said I. "Am I therefore to 
 leave it off?" 
 
 " That is a quibble !" said she, though I am sure 
 I did not mean it so. " One must be arrived at a 
 great degree of saintship to take pleasure in doing 
 right because it is right ; and if we only delight in 
 it because of some pleasant remembrance, or pride 
 in our own skill, there is no merit in it, whatever." 
 
 Now I had never once thought of any merit in 
 connection with my work for Mary Hawtree's twins. 
 I knew the babes needed the garments, and I 
 thought, beside, that it would make a good healthy 
 interest for poor Betty. However, the more I say,
 
 1 1 2 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 the less Lady Jemima understands me, so I held 
 ray peace. 
 
 " I had hoped to leave you this work of mino to 
 finish," continued Lady Jemima ; " but you seem 
 to have your hands full already. Do you think 
 you could find time ?" 
 
 " I fear not, my Lady," I answered, after a little 
 consideration. "You see the most of my time 
 must be given to Lady Betty, either in teaching or 
 amusing her." 
 
 " Of course, but have you no time given you for 
 recreation or devotion ?" I told her that I had an 
 hour in the morning and another in the evening, 
 beside what I could gain by rising early. 
 
 " And cannot you devote some of this time to 
 the service of the poor ? How can you hope for 
 heaven, if you cannot make such a little sacrifice 
 as this or what would you do if you were called 
 upon to give up everything for His sake?" 
 
 Well, it ended with my promising to see what I 
 could do, and taking the great basket to my room, 
 where it stands now, and as I look at it, seems to 
 reproach me for wasting so much time over my 
 journal. 
 
 May 1. 
 
 We have done great things to-day. Lady Betty 
 
 as really been out of doors. 
 
 The way of it was this. My Lord and Lady, 
 
 Mr. Penrose, and about all the household except 
 
 Lady Betty and myself, had gone down to the
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 1 1 3 
 
 village to see the May games on the Green. Mary 
 would have had me go and let her stay, and Anne 
 afterwards made the same offer, but I would not 
 hear of it. I knew that Mary and her sweetheart 
 would both be disappointed, and I don't like to 
 leave Anne with Lady Betty ; she is such a gossip, 
 and fills the child's head with all sorts of unwhole- 
 some stuff. So I stayed at home, right willingly, 
 for I don't feel in spirits for any such follies. 
 
 Lady Betty was sitting at the window in the 
 long gallery, and I by her, both of us feeling rather 
 silent and doleful, when the door opened and the 
 little dog jumped from Lady Betty's lap and ran 
 barking and frisking to meet Mr. Corbet. 
 
 " Why, Cousin Walter !" said Betty, " I thought 
 you would be at the May games?" 
 
 " And I thought I would come to see my little 
 lady !" he returned, kissing her. " Mistress Merton, 
 the air is very warm, and the sun is like June. 
 Could we not, think you, carry Lady Betty down 
 to the garden and let her see a little what the 
 world is like on a May-day?" 
 
 It was just what I had been wishing to do, but 
 I hesitated, because my Lady was away. How- 
 ever, I could not withstand my child's pleading, so 
 I wrapped her in a shawl and hood of my own, 
 and took down some cushions and cloaks, while 
 Mr. Corbet brought Betty in his strong arms, and 
 set her on the garden seat. I never saw any poor 
 child so delighted as she was. She had not been 
 out of doors in so long that 'twas like fairy land to 
 
 8
 
 H4 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 her. After sitting in the garden a while, Mr. 
 Corbet proposed to carry her in the woods, and 
 that was still more wonderful. We found a safe seat 
 on the dry grassy root of an old tree, and I sat down 
 by her, while the little dog ran hither and hither, 
 as well pleased as his mistress. Mr. Corbet ex- 
 erted himself to entertain Betty, telling her stories, 
 bringing her flowers, and pointing out various 
 things to her notice. I dared not leave her stay 
 too long this first time ; and though she was unwill- 
 ing at first to go in, she gave up very pleasantly at 
 the last. 
 
 " Why, that's my brave, good little maid !" said 
 Mr. Corbet, as she consented to go in. " You have 
 worked wonders, Mrs. Merton. I was afraid of a 
 scene." 
 
 "I don't cry any more, now !'' said Betty ; "I am 
 trying to be good, like my mother and Margaret." 
 
 When I reported the matter to Lady Stanton, I 
 thought she looked rather grave upon it : so I 
 hastened to say, that I did not think Lady Betty 
 had taken cold, and I was sorry if I had done 
 wrong ; but that the child had been so overjoyed 
 at her cousin's offer, that I could not bear to dis- 
 appoint her. 
 
 " You have done no wrong, sweetheart !" said 
 my Lady, "and I dare say nobody will be the 
 worse ; but we must not trouble Mr. Corbet. The 
 next time, we will have John Footman carry her 
 down."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 1 1 5 
 
 May 9. 
 
 Lady Jemima is really gone, and Mr. Penrose 
 with her. They travel in company with some 
 friends from Exeter. She left on the fifth of the 
 month ; and is to be away four weeks, she says, at 
 the very most. I am rather sorry I gave her th 
 letter for Felicia. I somehow feel as if trouble 
 would grow out of it. I don't know why, only 
 that Felicia has been my great cause of trouble 
 hitherto, and I doubt if she will be able to let slip 
 a chance of saying something to my disadvantage. 
 Aunt Willson will speak for me, that is one thing. 
 
 Betty has been out every pleasant day, and I 
 think the fresh, air, the change, and exercise, really 
 do her good. She has gained strength, appetite, 
 and a little color, and Mary says she sleeps more 
 quietly at night. She gets on finely with her 
 reading, and wants to begin writing; but I put 
 her off as yet. My Lady demurred a little at this, 
 because Lady Betty is so very backward for a 
 child of her age ; but I told her I was sure it was 
 best not to overcrowd her, but to better her health 
 if possible, first of all ; and to this she agreed. 
 Betty herself is growing ambitious, and I now 
 have to check her instead of urging her on, as at 
 first. She is very much pleased at being god- 
 mother (by proxy, of course,) to one of the twiiis 
 for whom we have been working, and I have 
 promised that the babes shall come up to see her 
 when the mother is able to bring them. I have 
 sometimes debated in my own mind, whether she
 
 n6 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 ought not to be told of what is coming, but on the 
 whole I do not think it best. 
 
 Mrs. Corbet has been up at the Court, and made 
 us quite a visit in the nursery. How any one 
 could for one moment impute evil to her, I cannot 
 guess. I should think the very sight of her face 
 would be enough to banish suspicion, if one had 
 entertained it. There is somewhat in her very 
 presence so restful I know not how else to express 
 rny meaning. I think if I were ill, or in trouble, 
 I should feel it a comfort only to have her in the 
 room, if she did not say a word. She looked 
 with a real interest at Lady Betty's sewing, com- 
 mended its neatness, and said she was glad to see 
 her busy about such work. 
 
 "It was all Margaret's doing," said Lady Betty, 
 frankly. (She will always call me Margaret, even 
 before strangers, and I have begged my Lady to 
 let her have her own way.) " I should never have 
 thought of it only for Margaret ; and oh, cousin, 
 it is so nice ! so much nicer to be thinking about 
 my little god-daughter, and what I can do for her, 
 than to think only of what I want myself." 
 
 "Dear heart!" said Mrs. Corbet. "It is always 
 much pleasauter and happier, even for oneself, to 
 think of the wants and pleasures of others, than to 
 dwell forever on one's own. That would be the 
 worst punishment that could befall any one in this 
 world or the next. Do you not think so, Mistress 
 Margaret ?" 
 
 " I do, indeed !" said I ; " and yet" And here I
 
 77/6' Corbet CJironiclcs. 117 
 
 stopped, fearing lest I should be thought forward. 
 
 "And yet" she repeated, with that sweet, sud- 
 den smile of hers. 
 
 " And yet we are told to think about ourselves 
 in some things !" I went on to say. " Mr. Penrose 
 says we are to watch ourselves constantly, lest we 
 fall into sin, and we must think about ourselves, to 
 do that or, so it seems to me. You heard him 
 last Sunday, madam ?" 
 
 " I did," replied Mrs. Corbet. 
 
 " "Well," I said, marvelling at my own boldness, 
 but something seemed to draw me on " if life is 
 what he said just one constant struggle with the 
 power of evil within and without if we are in 
 every way to keep under and bring into subjection 
 our bodies by fasting and penance, and our souls 
 by mourning and mortification, with but a doubt- 
 ful hope of succeeding after all what can we do 
 but think about ourselves ?" 
 
 "Dear heart!" said Mrs. Corbet, again. (She 
 uses these Devonshire phrases so sweetly and 
 tenderly.) " Dear heart, do not you go to making 
 bricks in Egypt with Mr. Penrose albeit I think 
 him an earnest, painstaking young man, and I 
 believe he will yet work himself right. But, my 
 child, remember who it was that bade us take no 
 thought for the morrow, and commit thy soul to 
 His keeping. Believe me, when I tell thee, that 
 one good earnest look at thy Lord, will do more 
 to keep thee in the right way than gazing on thy- 
 self forever."
 
 1 1 8 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 How I did want to go on with the conversation ! 
 but at that moment my Lady came in, and carried 
 away her cousin to see something in her own 
 room baby things, I suppose. 
 
 I know how to work satin stitch wondrous 
 nicely, and I have a great desire to work some- 
 thing pretty for my Lady ; but here is this great 
 basket of Lady Jemima's staring me in the face all 
 the time. I wish I had refused to have anything 
 to do with it at first ; and yet, according to her, 
 there would be no merit in doing the robe for my 
 Lady, because it would be a pleasure from begin- 
 ning to end. I am sure it is no pleasure to work 
 on these garments. They are so coarse that I 
 think it will be no mean penance to wear them, 
 and I must say, marvellous ill-contrived. I have 
 neglected my journal and my recreation to work at 
 them, but I am sure I am no better for the sacri- 
 fice, as yet. I wish I could talk the matter over 
 with Mrs. Corbet. I feel as if she might shed 
 some light on my difficulties. 
 
 Mrs. Corbet brought me my parcel from Aunt 
 "Willson. The lawn she sent a whole piece is 
 beautifully fine and sheen, and would be just the 
 thing for my embroidery. There are besides some 
 dressing- things, cords and laces, pins, needles, 
 bodkins, and a nice housewife, stored with abun- 
 dance of thread of different kinds, and a new book 
 for my journal, with some other papers. I wonder, 
 by the by, how Aunt Willson knew I kept a jour- 
 nal? I suppose Felicia must have told her
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 1 1 9 
 
 Felicia herself sends me a kerchief and apron, of 
 fine stuff, indeed, and well made, but green just 
 the color she knows 1 never can wear, even if I 
 were not in mourning. 
 
 May 12 
 
 Mrs. Judith says Mr. Corbet is going southward 
 on a journey, and is expecting to be gone some 
 time. His mother, methinks, will be lonely with- 
 out him. Of course I shall not see him before he 
 goes, unless he comes to say good-by to Betty. I 
 have not told her that he is going. 
 
 I don't know how it is, but I do not feel like 
 myself for a few days past. I feel fretful, and the 
 least thing troubles me, and I do not sleep well, 
 for the first time in my life. My head aches and 
 feels heavy, so that I find it hard to exert myself 
 to amuse Lady Bettj', and I am glad that she has 
 her dog to play with. I think I miss my afternoon 
 walks, which I have given up to sew on the work 
 which Lady Jemima left me. 
 
 May 13. 
 
 Mr. Corbet did come to bid Betty good-by, after 
 all. More than that he told me that he meant to 
 go and see Mr. Carey, and most kindly offered to 
 take charge of a packet for me ; so I have written 
 two long letters to mother and Dick. How 
 pleasant it seems to think that he will see them 
 all, and can tell me how dear mother is looking.
 
 I2O Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 May 16. 
 
 I have finished all tbo work that Lady Jemima 
 left me, and oh, how glad I am that it is done ! I 
 am afraid it has done me no good, however, be- 
 cause I have disliked it so much ; and more than 
 that, I am afraid that the poor women at the 
 alrnshouses, for whom it is intended, will not be so 
 very much the better either, for the garments are 
 not well-fashioned, and though I did my best to 
 reform their shapes, I did not succeed very well. 
 I asked my Lady if I might go and carry the 
 basket to the almshouses. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. 
 
 I told her about it. 
 
 " And when have you found time to do so much ?" 
 she asked, looting not very well pleased. 
 
 I hastened to tell her that I had sewed during my 
 hours of recreation, instead of going out to walk ; 
 but she was no better satisfied than before. 
 
 " I thought you were not looking well," said she. 
 " Lady Jemima should have had more considera- 
 tion than to lay such a task upon you. Henceforth, 
 Margaret, remember that I Avish you to walk every 
 day when the weather is pleasant. You will fulfil 
 no duty to anybody by making yourself sick." 
 
 " I did miss my walks very much, my Lady," I 
 said ; " but my Lady Jemima wished the work fin- 
 ished, and she said I ought to deny myself daily." 
 
 I stopped, for I did not wish to repeat all that 
 Lady Jemima had said. My Lady smiled. 
 
 " Well, well !" said she. " My sister meant well,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 121 
 
 no doubt, and so did you ; but remember, sweet- 
 heart, that your time and your health are not alto- 
 gether your own, and that you must first do your 
 duty in the state of life to which you have been 
 called. I am not angry with you, child, so you need 
 not look so downcast." 
 
 " But, mamma !" said Betty, anxiously, " Mar- 
 garet and I want to make some more clothes for 
 the twins, and for their mother. You don't mind 
 that, do you? I do love it so much, and I am 
 learning to work nicely. Margaret says so." 
 
 " O no. That is quite another matter. Let me 
 see this same work." 
 
 So I brought out our basket, and Lady Betty 
 displayed all we had accomplished between us, 
 scrupulously avoiding the taking any more than 
 her due share of credit. She is a wonderful 
 truthful child. My Lady examined the work, and 
 seemed much pleased. 
 
 "You have done wonders," said she. "But 
 whose work is this pretty christening dress, for so 
 I presume it is ?" 
 
 " That is Margaret's !" said Lady Betty, as proud 
 of the modest little row of satin stitch, as if she 
 had done it herself. Is it not pretty, mamma ?" 
 
 " Very pretty, indeed !" replied my Lady. 
 
 " Margaret knows how to do all kinds of pretty 
 work," continued Betty. " She can work tapestry, 
 and make knotting, and knit !" 
 
 " Margaret is a wonderful person, no doubt. I 
 think we. are much obliged to good Mr. Carey for
 
 122 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 bringing her to us. You must ask her to teach you 
 some of these feats of hers," said my Lady, 
 " Have you any of your work by you, Margaret ? 
 I should like to see it." 
 
 I had some few little pieces, so I brought them 
 and my Lady looked them over, and was pleased 
 so to commend them, that I found courage to make 
 my request, which was that she would let me work 
 something for the baby that is coming, on the fine 
 linen that my aunt sent me. She consented, on 
 condition that I should not abridge my hours of 
 recreation. 
 
 "But how shall you manage about Betty?" she 
 asked. "I suppose she knows naught of the mat- 
 ter, and she will be all curiosity about your 
 work." 
 
 " If I might venture to speak my thoughts about 
 that, my Lady," said I, and then stopped, fearing 
 I was too bold. 
 
 "Well!" said my Lady. "Speak out. Your 
 thoughts are usually to the purpose, I find." 
 
 Thus encouraged, I did venture to tell her what 
 I was thinking of namely, that she should tell 
 Lady Betty herself. 
 
 " You see, my Lady, she is sure to find out in 
 some way. Lady Jemima is very outspoken, and 
 the maids will talk : and if she learns the story 
 from you, she will be less likely to take up any 
 wrong impression, or to ask inconvenient questions. 
 My mother did so by me when Jacky and Phillis 
 were born, and she said she thought it the best way.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 123 
 
 "Your mother lias made a wondrous wise maid 
 of you!" said my Lady. "I wonder she could 
 make up her mind to part with so notable a 
 daughter. ' 
 
 I told her that Dick and myself, being the eldest 
 children, were obliged to do what we could to help 
 the others, dear father's death having left us poor, 
 and besides, I said, people at home did not give me 
 credit for so much wisdom. She laughed and said 
 something about a prophet being without honor in 
 his own country ; and then bidding me take a good 
 long walk, and enjoy myself in the fresh air, she 
 went back to Lady Betty, and I took my bundle of 
 work and went down to the almshouses. 
 
 They are pretty cottages enough, five in number, 
 and stand on the village green, near the church- 
 yard. I thought the thatch would be the better 
 of mending in some places, but, on the whole, they 
 looked comfortable, though not so nice as ours at 
 Saintswell. I wonder, by the way, whether Mr. 
 Carey will hold Sir Peter Beaumont up to the 
 point of keeping them in repair, as my father used 
 to do. 
 
 Well, I knocked at the door of the first one, 
 and a voice said, " Come in !" so I entered. There, 
 in her bee-hive chair, sat an old woman, look- 
 so like dear Dame Crump, that I could have kissed 
 her. She made me most civilly welcome, and 
 asked me to sit down. I told her that I had 
 brought her a cap and petticoat, which Lady Je- 
 mima had left for her. She smiled, and said my
 
 124 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 Lady was very kind, but I can't say she showed 
 any great enthusiasm about the matter. 
 
 " You will be the young lady now to take care 
 of my Lady Betty," she said, presently. I told 
 her I was. 
 
 " And how is she, poor dear maid ? No better, 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 I told her I thought Lady Betty was stronger 
 than when I came, adding that I believed the fresh 
 air did her good. 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt !" said Dame Yeo, for such 
 I found was her name. " Fresh air and good food 
 are better than doctor stuff. You are not from 
 this part of the country, Madam, or so I judge, from 
 your speech ?" 
 
 I told her I was from a little village not far from 
 Chester. 
 
 " Chester !" said she, musingly. " I had a sister 
 that married and went to live somewhere near 
 Chester. Her husband was a sailor, and when he 
 went away on his long voyage to the Indies, 
 Madge went to live with his old mother. . She was 
 much older than I. I doubt she is not alive. A 
 fine stout lad was Thomas Crump, and Madge was 
 a handsome maid as ever I saw. But she would 
 be near a hundred an she were living. I am past 
 eighty, myself." 
 
 The resemblance to my old friend was ex- 
 plained. 
 
 " I can give you news of your sister, I believe," 
 said I. " She is still living in one of the alms-
 
 The Corbet CJLroniclcs. 126 
 
 houses in Saintswcll, and tliongh old, as you say, 
 is well and cheerful. I saw her the day before I 
 left home." 
 
 Never was any poor old creature so pleased. 
 The tears ran down her withered cheeks, as she 
 thanked God again and again for sending her 
 news of her sister. I told her all I could think of 
 about Dame Crump, and when I had stayed as 
 long as I could, I rose to go. 
 
 " Come' again, my dear, tender soul ! My clear 
 young lady, now do,wont-e?" she said, detaining 
 me with a trembling hand. " It does seem to do 
 me good to see you !" 
 
 " And I am sure you have done me good," I 
 answered. " It is so pleasant to talk of home." 
 
 "Aye, that it is that it is!" replied Goody 
 Yeo. " There is no place like home, my maid ; 
 now is there ? There, bless thy heart ! I didn't 
 mean to make thee cry. Dou't-e cry, now, but 
 keep up a good heart, dear soul, and when you 
 are downcast, think about the home above. We 
 shall all meet there, you know !" 
 
 " Can I do aught for you, Goody, before I go?" 
 I asked, brushing the drops from my eyes. 
 
 " If it wouldn't be asking too much, if you would 
 ust take the Bible and read me a psalm and 
 chapter. My eyes are not worth much now-a-days, 
 though I do spell out a verse now and then." 
 
 " What shall I read?" I asked. 
 
 " Oh, the psalms for the day, first of all." 
 
 So I read the psalms for the day, the old
 
 126 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 listening devoutly, her wrinkled face full of peace. 
 Then, at her request, I read the last chapter of 
 Revelations. 
 
 "And to think that is all ours our purchased 
 inheritance !" said Goody, when I had done. 
 " Truly we need not murmur over the hardships 
 of the way when it leads to such a home at last." 
 
 The old woman does not seem to have any of 
 those doubts which Mr. Penrose thinks we ought 
 to have, to keep us humble. I would have liked 
 to talk farther with her, but I had stayed too long 
 already. I see the cushion of her chair is worn 
 out. I will beg some pretty piece of my Lady, 
 and when Betty has finished her present work, she 
 shall make a patchwork cushion for Goody Yeo. 
 
 Goody Hollins was in a very different mood. 
 The world was out of joint, according to her. No- 
 body cared for her. Parson never came to see 
 her, and Mistress Parnell was always corsetting up 
 Goody Teo and old Master Dean with good things, 
 while she had nothing to eat, and nobody would 
 care if she starved. " Nobody don't take no care 
 of we!" were her last words. "We is naught but 
 poor old folk that they just want to get rid of!" 
 
 She was deaf as a post, so there was no use in 
 talking to her. I found Gaffer Dean, a cheerful 
 old man, sitting out in the sun, and as chirruping 
 as an old cricket. I would have liked to stay 
 longer and chat with him, but the afternoon was 
 wearing away, and I wanted to call at the Rec- 
 tory.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 127 
 
 Mistress Paniell made me welcome, as usual. I 
 told her I had been at the almshouses, and she 
 laughed at my account of Goody Hollins. 
 
 "I carried her a jug of broth this very day!" 
 said she : " but the poor old soul is sadly crabbed 
 and cankered." 
 
 " She seems to think that every one neglects 
 her," I said : " even her own daughter." 
 
 " Her daughter has as much as she can do and 
 more to take care of her own," said Mistress Par- 
 nell. " Besides that, she is and always was a sad 
 slattern. Even Mistress Ellenwood could make 
 naught of Peggy Hollins. And then she told me 
 a great deal which I have not time to set down 
 here, about Mistress Ellenwood the schoolmistress, 
 and all the good she had done. 
 
 May 18. 
 
 I have begun my work for my Lady, which I 
 think will be very pretty. The lawn is so fine it 
 shows the embroidery to great advantage, and the 
 thread Aunt "Willsou sent with it is just the thing. 
 
 Betty has heard the secret, and seems to take 
 it kindly. She says little, but I see that she is 
 turning the matter over in her own mind, in her 
 silent fashion. Least night, after I had put her to 
 bed, she asked me : 
 
 " Margaret, do you think the baby will love me, 
 when it comes?" 
 
 "Yes, if you are a good kind sister!" I an- 
 swered.
 
 128 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 " You don't think mamma will leave off loving me 
 then, do you, Margaret?" she asked again, with a 
 quivering lip. 
 
 "No, of course not," said I. "She will lovo 
 you all the more, and if you are a good girl, and 
 try to learn, you can be a great help to her by 
 and by." 
 
 This notion seemed to comfort her, and she lay 
 down contented. 
 
 May 30. 
 
 This morning Lady Betty walked farther than 
 she had ever done before. She is delighted with 
 being out of doors, and it certainly does her good. 
 The wild flowers, of which the wood is full, are an 
 endless delight to her, and she is never weary of 
 gathering them and observing them. This morn- 
 ing she saw a squirrel. The dog ran after it, and 
 Betty was in a terrible taking lest he should hurt 
 it, but it escaped easily enough, and sat on a 
 branch, scolding us, at which the child was de- 
 lighted. She is certainly stronger, and complains 
 much less than she did, either because she really 
 suffers less, or because she has more to think 
 about, and so dwells the less on her own discom- 
 forts. She has not had a crying fit in a long 
 time. I talk to her about all sorts of things 
 about the village and the poor people here and at 
 home, and everything else I can think of to 
 interest her. She was much delighted with my 
 story of finding Dame Crump's sister in Goody Yeo,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 129 
 
 and in hearing of Gaffer Dean's jackdaw, which I 
 forgot to mention in its- place. She wished she 
 could go down to see it. I wish she could. I 
 wonder much whether she could learn to ride a 
 donkey ? 
 
 June 1. 
 
 Mr. Penrose is come back, but not Lady Jemima. 
 He brought letters for my Lord and Lady from 
 her, and one from Felicia to me the most 
 cordial I have ever had from her. Perhaps if we 
 do not see each other for a year or two longer we 
 shall become quite intimate and friendly. Felicia 
 seems to have seen a good deal of Lady Jemima, 
 and has much to say in her praise. 
 
 Mr. Penrose has brought down some beautiful 
 furniture for the chapel candlesticks, vestments, 
 and what not, and he is busy arranging them 
 in order. He would have had me help him, but I 
 could not leave Lady Betty, who has been ailing 
 for two or three days, and is so restless at night 
 that I have taken turn about with Mary to stay 
 with her. She seems to get no sleep unless some 
 one is sitting by her. I almost fancy she is 
 afraid. 
 
 June 2. 
 
 I have found out what ails Lady Betty. Anne 
 has been telling her ghost stories. I hardly ever 
 let Anne stay with her, but Mary's mother-in-law 
 that is to be is sick, and she, like the good girl 
 
 9
 
 130 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 that she is, wants to take her share in nursing the 
 old woman. Then old Brewster has also been ill, 
 and my dear Lady has asked me to see that she 
 had her medicine properly, and to attend to 
 various little matters for her : so I have been 
 much more away from my child than usual. Last 
 night she was very restless, and started so at some 
 strange sound, of which there are always plenty, 
 that I asked her what was the matter. 
 
 " I am afraid !" she replied. 
 
 "Afraid of what?" I asked. 
 
 She would not tell me at first, but at last 
 I coaxed her. Anne has told her I know not 
 what tale of the ghost of a knight who walks 
 in the long gallery. He is called the Halting 
 Knight, because he had one leg shorter than 
 the other, and Anne says that when any misfortune 
 is about to happen to the family, he walks up and 
 down all night, wringing his mailed hands, and 
 tossing his arms over his head. 
 
 " There !" exclaimed the child, clinging to me. 
 "Don't you hear it? Oh, what if he be come 
 to presage the death of my mother !" 
 
 I certainly did hear something like a halting 
 step : and at another time I might have been 
 afraid myself: but I saw how necessary it was to 
 soothe Betty, who was trembling all over. 
 
 "Dear heart! That noise you hear is not the 
 Halting Knight," said I. " I cannot toll you just 
 what makes it, but very likely it is the wind 
 knocking a branch of ivy against the wall. Do
 
 T/ie Corbel Chronicles. 131 
 
 not think about such frightful things, but re- 
 member how you have asked God to take care 
 of you, and think about the holy angels that he 
 sends to have charge of us." 
 
 Then I repeated the ninety-first psalm to her, 
 and by degrees she grew more composed. 
 
 " So you don't think it is the Halting Knight?" 
 said she, presently. 
 
 " No, I don't," I answered : " and I will teU you 
 why. If the knight was a good man when he was 
 alive, and served God, I am sure he is in heaven, 
 and that he would never care to come from 
 that holy and happy place to walk up and down 
 all night in the dark windy gallery. And if he is 
 with wicked spirits, I am quite sure that God will 
 not let him come out of prison to hurt them who 
 put their trust in Him. So I soothed her to sleep, 
 and the rest of the night she rested tranquilly. 
 She has been better to-day, though not well 
 enough to go out of doors, and I have tried 
 in every way to keep her mind diverted. Poor 
 thing, she has trouble enough, without any fanciful 
 fears. 
 
 June 4. 
 
 My Lady asked me to-day some questions 
 about my friends in London. I told her I had 
 none except my aunt Willsen and Felicia, who was 
 also my aunt, though I had never called her so, 
 we being brought up together, and so near of an 
 age. 1 spoke warmly, as I felt, in praise of Aunt
 
 132 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 Willson, and told how nobly she had come forward 
 to help us in our troubles. Then she asked me 
 about Felicia. I hesitated, and then said, frankly : 
 
 " To tell you the truth, my Lady, I would rather 
 not talk of her. We were never good friends, and 
 I am afraid 1 might say more than I ought." 
 
 " Well, well !" said my Lady. " I will not ask 
 you any more questions. My sister seems to think 
 highly of her, but she is apt to take sudden fancies, 
 especially when people are of her own way of 
 thinking." 
 
 " Felicia must have changed a good deal if she 
 is of Lady Jemima's way of thinking," said I. 
 " But she can be very pleasant when she pleases, 
 and she is very pretty. I hope she gets on well 
 with my Aunt Willson. I hope she will not be 
 discontented, and go back to mother again. I was 
 so glad she went away before I did." 
 
 " Now you have told me all I wished to know," 
 said my Lady. Then laughing merrily at my 
 discomfiture, she bade me not be disturbed she 
 should think none the less of me. 
 
 June 8. 
 
 Mr. Penrose has finished all his decorations, 
 and called me in to see them. There is a deal of 
 gold lace and purple cloth, with silver-gilt candle- 
 sticks, and other trinkets, of which I do not oven 
 know the names. He would have me say how I 
 liked it all. 
 
 "Honestly?" said I.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 133 
 
 "Honestly, of course !" said he. 
 
 " Well then, to be plain with you, I like it not so 
 well as before !" said I. " I think the old carven 
 wood you have covered up much more beautiful 
 than the embroidered cloth on it ; and for the rest, 
 I must say it puts me in mind of my little sister's 
 baby-houses, or the Papish chapel my father once 
 took me to see at iny Lord Mountford's." 
 
 " You are something of a Puritan, I see, as your 
 cousin says," said Mr. Penrose. 
 
 "I don't even know what a Puritan is," I an- 
 swered, I am afraid rather too warmly for the 
 place. " Felicia I suppose it is she you mean 
 by my cousin used to call me a Puritan, because 
 I did not like the East window in our church." 
 
 " And why did you not like it ?" he asked. 
 
 " Because there was painted thereon the image 
 of Him of whom no image should be made :" I 
 answered. " I could not think it right. It seemed 
 to me like blasphemy. I don't see anything wrong 
 about these decorations of yours, but they seem to 
 me riot at all suitable for a church." 
 
 " I am unfortunate in incurring your disappro- 
 bation," said he, stiffly. 
 
 " You asked me, you know," said I. " I could 
 but say what I think. I am sorry if I have hurt 
 you !" 
 
 "You have not hurt me only as you always do 
 hurt me," he answered, with such a strange quiver 
 in his voice, that I looked at him in surprise. He 
 turned away, however, and began arranging some
 
 134 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 of the drapery about the altar. In doing so the 
 fringe caught on one of the tall, heavy candlesticks. 
 I saw that a fall was imminent, and sprang to save 
 it : but I was too late. The candlestick fell, and 
 as ill-luck would have it, struck me on the fore- 
 head, and the edge being sharp, made a pretty 
 deep cut, from which the blood flowed freely. I 
 felt stunned and sick for a minute, but recovered 
 myself, to see Mr. Penrose gazing at me with a face 
 whiter than his band. 
 
 " It is naught !" said I, pulling my kerchief to 
 my forehead. Don't look so frightened, but help 
 me to find Mrs. Judith." 
 
 For I was vexed at him, standing there as if 
 rooted to the earth, never offering to help. It was 
 rather unreasonable in me, too, but I do love folk 
 to have their wits about them. He started, and 
 recovered himself, and came forward to give me 
 his arm. 
 
 "Well, at last I got to Mrs. Judith's room, narrow- 
 ly missing meeting my Lady, which was what I 
 dreaded above all things. Mrs. Judith knew what 
 she was about, at any rate, plastered up my head 
 and bathed my face, and then helped me to my 
 room. She would have had me lie still the rest of 
 the day, but I did not like to leave my child, and 
 I have felt no inconvenience since, save a headache, 
 and now and then a strange sickness. 
 
 June, 28. 
 I did not think, when I laid down my pen, that
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 135 
 
 three weeks would pass before I took it up 
 again. 
 
 I felt the sickness coming over me again, and I 
 suppose went to the window for air, for I was 
 found senseless on the floor under the open case- 
 ment, by Mrs Judith, who, in her kindness, had 
 come up before going to bed to see how I was. 
 She called Mary and got me to bed, and for three 
 or four days I was in considerable danger, it seems, 
 but my good constitution and Mrs. Judith's nurs- 
 ing brought me through. I had no surgeon, for 
 the nearest, who lives at Biddeford, had been 
 called away. I was not sorry, for I did as well 
 without him, and perhaps better. 
 
 I have been sitting up now for a week, and to 
 day ventured out of my room into the long 
 gallery, greatly to the delight of Lady Betty, who 
 thinks I must be almost well. The dear child was 
 as good as possible all the time I was at the worst, 
 so Mary tells me, even stifling her sobs when she 
 was told that she would make herself sick, and 
 that would grieve Mistress Merton. Since I have 
 been getting better, Mary has brought her in to 
 see me every day, and she has spent hours, sitting 
 in her chair, or lying on the bed beside me. At 
 first I had hard work to persuade her to go out of 
 doors without me, but at last she let old John 
 carry her down, and Mary go with her. She 
 brings me great nosegaj's of flowers every day, as 
 well as long stories about the squirrels and the
 
 136 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 young birds, for now, as ever, she prefers the wood 
 to the garden. 
 
 Every one has been very kind to me since I was 
 sick. Only I fancied Lady Jemima (who has been 
 at home more than a week,) treated me rather 
 coldly. She brought me letters from aunt and 
 Felicia, the latter sweet as honey rather too 
 sweet, in fact. Felicia is not apt to be so loving, 
 unless she meditates a bite, or a scratch at the 
 least. 
 
 Mr. Corbet has not yet returned, but his mother, 
 who has been once to see me, tells me that she 
 expects him in a few days. Oh, how I have 
 longed and pined for home, and mother, since I 
 have been sick ! All the home-sickness I have felt 
 before was as nothing to it. But I hope to get the 
 better of this weakness when I am able to take up 
 my work oiice more. 
 
 July 1. 
 
 As I was sitting in the gallery this morning, who 
 should come in but Mr. Penrose, whom I had 
 not seen before since that unlucky day in the 
 chapel. He looked pale and wretched enough, 
 and I felt sorry for him. 
 
 " I am glad to see you up once more," said he, 
 with something of a tremor in his voice. " I little 
 thought what would be the end, when I called you 
 into the chapel. If you had died " 
 
 " You would doubtless have been much afflicted," 
 said I, as ho paused. " That would have been
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 137 
 
 only natural, but even then, Mr. Penrose, you 
 would have had no cause of self-reproach. No- 
 body would have been to blame not eveu 
 myself!" 
 
 "I would never have entered the desk again!" 
 said he. " I would have sought some solitude 
 there are no convents now to retire to and have 
 given my life to fasting and penance forever after." 
 
 " Then you would have done a very wrong and 
 foolish thing!" said I. "What if St. Paul had 
 taken such a course ? His crimes were committed 
 of set purpose, yet did our Lord himself call him 
 to the ministry, and that when he Avas upon the 
 very errand of slaughter." 
 
 " I don't know .that I ever thought of that," 
 said he. " But you know Archbishop Abbot was 
 deprived because he killed a man by accident 
 when out hunting." 
 
 " I always thought it a very hard measure to 
 the poor old gentleman," I said. " There was no 
 malice in the act, and the archbishop did all in 
 his power to make amends. My father was ever 
 of the mind that if the Archbishop had been more 
 of a courtier, his homicide would have troubled 
 nobody." 
 
 Mr. Penrose looked a little grave upon this. I 
 believe he thinks it little less than blasphemy to 
 say a word against the present archbishop. 
 
 " But you see I was not killed, nor anything like 
 it !" I continued, " so you may put off your pur- 
 pose of retirement a little while."
 
 138 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 " Do you feel quite yourself again ?" lie asked, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Why no, not altogether," I said. "I feel weak, 
 and a little thing tires me, but I have no pain, and 
 my head is quite clear. I had odd fancies while I 
 was sick, Mr. Penrose. I remember them only 
 dreamily, however, and hope to forget them 
 altogether soon. I feel that I have much to be 
 thankful for, both because my life was spared, and 
 also for the care and kindness of all about me. It 
 is not every poor girl, alone and among strangers, 
 who meets with such friends." 
 
 " If Margaret had died, I would have died too !" 
 said Betty, who had hitherto taken no part in the 
 conversation. 
 
 " And so would I !" said Mr. Peurose ; but 
 Betty was not pleased. 
 
 " She is not your Margaret !" she retorted, with 
 the pertness which I have not j r et been able to 
 cure : " I don't see any call that you would have 
 to die!" 
 
 I could not help smiling, but seeing Mr. Pen- 
 rose's color rise, I chid Lady Betty, and bade her 
 ask pardon, which she did readily enough only 
 rather spoiling it, by repeating, very decidedly, 
 "But she is not your Margaret, Mir. Penrose! 
 She is mine !" 
 
 " I wont have any quarrelling about me !" said 
 I. " Come, my dear, we have sat Kero long 
 enough, and here comes Mary to say that our 
 dinner is ready."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 139 
 
 For since I have begun to sit up and move about 
 a little, I have taken my meals with my child, an 
 arrangement which she likes marvellously. 
 
 " Shall we not see you at the table soon ?" asked 
 Mr. Penrose. 
 
 "As soon as Mrs. Judith permits," I said. "I 
 am at her orders, you know. Thank you, Mr. 
 Penrose, for coming to see me." 
 
 " Can I do nothing for you?" he asked. 
 
 " There is one thing, if I may venture to ask so 
 much," I said. " Would you find time to go down 
 and read a chapter now and then to Dame Yeo at 
 the alnishouse. I promised to do so, but she must 
 think me strangely forgetful." 
 
 To my surprise he hesitated. " I would gladly do 
 so," he answered, presently ; " but I fear Doctor 
 Parnell would think it an undue interference." 
 
 "I don't believe he would," said I. "He is a 
 kind old man, and I believe he would be pleased 
 with anything that pleased the old folks. At all 
 events, you could speak to him about the matter. 
 But do not do anything about it, if it is like to 
 make any trouble." 
 
 " Oh, I will go !" said he, and, I rather think he 
 did go this very afternoon. 
 
 July 3. 
 
 I felt so much better this morning that I coaxed 
 Mrs. Judith to let me go out with Lady Betty into 
 the wood. The day was lovely, and the whole air 
 seemed full of the scent of hay. Lady Betty, who
 
 140 Lady Betty s Governess; or, 
 
 vralks \vith more and more ease every day, ran 
 about quite a .good deal, and gathered wild flowers 
 for me. Her little dog has done her a great deal 
 of good in this respect, for she goes after him and 
 joins in his play. My Lady came out while we 
 were in the wood and sat down by me. After 
 looking at, and highly commending my work, 
 which I had brought in my hand, and kindly tell- 
 ing me not to tire my eyes over it, she began to 
 talk about Lady Betty, who was at a distance 
 gathering some plants which had taken her fancy. 
 
 " You have done wonders during the little time 
 you have had her in charge," said she. " I could 
 never have thought to see her move so freely so 
 much like another child. If she had gained naught 
 in learning, I should owe you a debt of gratitude 
 for all you have down for her health." 
 
 " You owe me nothing, my Lady," I said. " I 
 have but done my duty, and I would gladly have 
 done ten times more. It is I who ain in j-our 
 debt for all your goodness to me." 
 
 " Well, well, we wont dispute the matter !" said 
 she, with her sweet, sad smile. " If only you can 
 stay for a year or two but I fear that will hardly 
 be." 
 
 " I don't know why not, my Lad} 7 ," I ventured 
 to say. " Unless you tire of me, or I misbehave 
 myself, which I trust not to do ; I see no reason 
 why I should not stay with Lady Betty as long as 
 she needs a governess." 
 
 "Then you have yourself no desire to change
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 141 
 
 your condition to be an}'where else ?" sr-e asked, 
 looking at me in a searching way, with her great 
 beautiful eyes, as if she would read my inmost 
 thoughts. 
 
 " My Lady," said I, " I will tell you the simple 
 truth. I would rather be at home with my mother, 
 even in her little cottage, than here in Stanton 
 Court, though here I am lodged and waited upon 
 as I never was before. But as for any other place, 
 I speak but simple sooth in saying, that since I 
 cannot be at home, I would rather be here than 
 anywhere else in the world. Every one is kind to 
 me, and I love my Lady Betty dearly. I have no 
 wish to change my condition." 
 
 "It is well said, sweetheart, and as much 
 as I could ask," said my dear Lady. " I could 
 not in reason ask you to prefer any other place 
 to home. But suppose some one comes and 
 proffers you a house and home of your own, what 
 then?" * 
 
 "That is too large a supposition for my poor 
 imagination !" said I, smiling. " A poor plain par- 
 son's daughter, without beauty or dower, is not like 
 to attract many suitors, I fancy. Besides, if I 
 were as beautiful as Mrs. Corbet, or the Fair 
 Dame herself, I see nobody." 
 
 " You are like the princess in the faiiy tale, shu 
 up in an enchanted castle !" said my Lady. " But 
 you forget Mr. Penrose." 
 
 " Oh, he is nobody so far as that goes !" said I. 
 " He looks clown upon me as an ignoramus and a
 
 142 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 person of no family, and besides lie thinks me a 
 Puritan I' 1 
 
 " What is a Puritan ?" asked Lady Betty, com- 
 ing up and leaning on my lap. 
 
 " That is more than I can tell you, my dear," 
 said I ; " unless it is a person who likes clear glass 
 better than painted windows, and carven oak 
 better than scarlet cloth and embroidery." 
 
 My Lady laughed and bade Betty see if she 
 could find a clover with four leaves. When the 
 child had set seriously about her search, she said 
 to me, taking my hand, and speaking very ear- 
 nestly : 
 
 " Margaret, will you make me a promise ?' 
 
 *' If I can, my Lady," I answered. 
 
 " Promise me then that you will not leave Betty 
 for at least a year, whether I live or die. In the 
 latter case I do believe the child would not be 
 long behind her mother certainly not," she said, 
 with a strange look in her face " if, as some say, 
 the dead mother hath the power of calling the child 
 after her. But promise me that you will remain 
 with my child for at least a year.'' 
 
 " I promise you, my Lady !" said I, as soon as I 
 could speak. " I will not leave Lady Betty for a 
 year, at least, unless I am sent away." 
 
 " You may not find things alwa} r s as pleasant as 
 now," she went on to say. "My sister-in-law 
 sometimes takes strange fancies, and she has great 
 influence with her brother, though they are so very 
 different. But promise me that you will not leave
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 143 
 
 my child for at least a year, even," slie added, " if 
 the fairy prince should come for you !" 
 
 " The fairy prince is not likely to come, unless, 
 indeed, my poor dear father's ship should come 
 home at last," said I ; " but if he does, I shall send 
 him about his business. My dear Lady, I am so 
 glad you are pleased with me," said I, with a silly 
 gush of tears, which, however, I could not help. I 
 suppose because I am so weak still. 
 
 She smoothed my hair with her lovely hands, 
 and said many kind things, and I recovered myself 
 presently, and begged her pardon. 
 
 " Tut tut," said she, lightly. " Tell me about 
 your father's ship." 
 
 So I told her all about it, and how we feared 
 it had been a total loss, and how my brother had 
 been obliged to change all his plans, with much 
 more too much, I fear, for it was so pleasant to 
 talk of home, and she listened so kindly, that I 
 hardly knew when to leave off. 
 
 July 6. 
 
 Mr. Corbet has come back, and has brought me 
 a great packet of letters and little keepsakes from 
 the friends at home so large a parcel that I fear 
 it must have been inconvenient to him, but he 
 made light of it. 
 
 Betty and I were out in the woods, as usual, she 
 running about for she can really run a little now 
 and I very busy with my pretty work, when Mr. 
 Corbet came out of the side door and down to
 
 144 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 where I was sitting. Betty gave a cry of joy at 
 seeing her cousin, whom she loves clearly, and with 
 some reason, for he is ever kind and gentle with 
 her. He caressed her, and gave her a pretty box 
 of comfits he had brought, and then turned smiling 
 to me. 
 
 " And Mrs. Merton must also have her box of 
 comfits," said he, putting my precious packet into 
 my hand. I am sure to bring my welcome, since 
 I come from Chester and Saintswell." 
 
 " And did you really go to Saints well ?" I asked. 
 
 " I really did," he answered. " I stayed a week 
 with my good friend, Mr. Carey, and made ac- 
 quaintance with your honored mother, and with 
 Master Jacky and his sisters, as well as with many 
 other folk, old and young, gentle and simple. I 
 should have been much flattered by their atten- 
 tions, only I was forced to lay all to the account 
 of my knowing the last news of dear Mistress 
 Margaret." 
 
 I asked him many questions, as to dear mother's 
 looks, and I know not what all, some of which I 
 doubt he thought silly enough. I know I asked 
 him whether the twins were grown. 
 
 " That I can hardly tell you, as I never saw them 
 before ; but 'tis not likely that they have changed 
 a great deal in three mouths," said he. 
 
 " I can't think that I have been hardly three 
 months away," said I. "It seems so long since I 
 have seen any of them." And then I began with 
 new questions, which he answered patiently enough.
 
 Tlie Corbet Chronicles. 145 
 
 He told me that Mr. Carey seemed to be much 
 liked by all his people, though some of them 
 thought his preaching not so plain and simple as 
 my father's. He had even been taken by the 
 twins to see the alinshouses, and had been able to 
 give dear old Goody Crump news of her sister, 
 and of other folk she had known. The old woman 
 had sent me her blessing, as had also Dame 
 Higgins ; the latter hoping that I had safely kept 
 her precious medal. 
 
 "We shall have to begin watching you as a 
 dangerous person," said he, smiling : " since you 
 deal with such trinkets as medals blessed by the 
 pope." 
 
 " I could not well refuse the old woman's gift," 
 I said. " Tis but a bit of tarnished silver, when all 
 is said ; and as to the pope's blessing, I fancy, as 
 Goody Higgins said, if it does no good it can do 
 no great harm especially as I keep it with the 
 stone old Esther gave me to keep off the witches." 
 
 "Do you believe in witches, Mrs. Merton?" 
 asked Mr. Corbet. 
 
 "I never saw one," I answered. "We were 
 happy in having none of those fearful troubles in 
 our parish, which were so rife in this part of the 
 country some years ago, and all our old women 
 are very harmless folk. I believe Esther has her 
 doubts of Goody Higgins, but that is only because 
 the poor thing, being a papist, never goes to church. 
 No, I don't think I have much belief in witches." 
 
 "Nor in ghosts ?" he asked, smiling. "Are you 
 10
 
 146 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 not just a little afraid of the Halting Knight, when 
 the wind blows hard o' nights ? Or have you 
 never heard his story?" 
 
 " O yes, I have heard all about him," I an- 
 swered. " I dare not say that I have not some- 
 times listened for his lame step in the gallery ; but 
 I don't think I am much afraid of him, after all. 
 I don't think, to say the truth, that I have it in me 
 to be very much afraid of such things." 
 
 After that we fell into a pleasant chat till it was 
 time for Betty to go into the house. I have read 
 my letters over and over the long ones from dear 
 mother and Richard, poor Jacky's short and some- 
 what blotted scroll, and the printed notes of the 
 twins. I feel as if I had made a visit at home. 
 So many little things can be told by word of 
 mouth, which no one thinks of putting in a letter ; 
 and Mr. Corbet seems to have noticed everything, 
 even to poor Punch, our three-legged, or rather 
 three-footed cat, who lost his fore-paw in a 
 rabbit-trap, and whom father would not have 
 killed, but dressed the creature's wounds with his 
 own hands, and nursed him till he got well. 
 
 He is a wonderful kind gentleman to take so 
 much pains for me. I am so glad he and Richard 
 took so to each other. It would seem but natural 
 that they should, thinking so much alike on many 
 ubjects ; but one can never guess beforehand how 
 Buch things will turn out. 
 
 Richard says he makes progress in his studies, 
 and that Master Smith is kind and generous as
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 147 
 
 ever. He still hears much of public affairs, and I 
 can see that he does not like the complexion of 
 them, and doth fear much trouble and discontent, 
 arising from the high-handed proceedings of the 
 Archbishop and the Star-chamber. 
 
 He writes me that Mr. Prjnne, the barrister, an 
 old friend of my father's, and one who hath been 
 many times at our house since my remembrance, 
 is in prison, and like to fare badly. He was 
 always a bugbear to us children, with his sour, 
 austere face, and his perpetual arguments with my 
 father, wherein he was ofttimes so sharp and 
 rude, that a less sweet-tempered man would have 
 at the least declined his acquaintance ; but my 
 father always said there was much good in him, 
 and I know that he was ever liberal in giving to 
 the poor. I shall be sorry to hear of any great 
 harm coming to him, poor man. It seems he 
 hath writ a book concerning stage-plays, whereat 
 the Court are much offended.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 July 9. 
 
 T her own earnest desire Lady Betty has 
 began writing. She takes to it very 
 handily, as indeed she does to most 
 things. I never saw any child learn to 
 read so fast. I was astonished thereat, till my 
 Lady told me that it was in some sense rather a 
 revival than a new acquisition of learning; that 
 before her last long and dreadful illness, which 
 lasted more than a year, Betty had known how to 
 read in easy words pretty well; but that when 
 she recovered her right senses, after many days of 
 unconsciousness or raving, she seemed to have 
 forgotten everything, even the names of thoso 
 about her. 
 
 The dear child takes great pains to learn, as well 
 to please me, as for learning's sake. Her health is 
 certainly much better. She now moves with free- 
 dom and without pain (unless, which I have 
 learned to guard against, she is on her feet too 
 long at a time), sleeps soundly, and is far less 
 whimsical about what she eats, so that she takes 
 148
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 149 
 
 contentedly plain nourishing food. Her temper 
 and spirits improve with her health. I rarely 
 have to reprove her, and it is a long time since we 
 have had a screaming bout, which I dread most oi 
 all. They distress my dear Lady, and make my 
 Lord so angry if he chances to hear them ; and he 
 is not a man to hold any curb of measure or rea- 
 son over his anger. "Well ! well ! my Lord is my 
 Lord, and I desire to pay him all due respect, but 
 at times I cannot but wonder what ever my Lady 
 married him for. 'Twas a love match, too, so Mrs. 
 Judith says. 
 
 But as for my child, I have much to be thankful 
 for in her continued improvement, and her affec- 
 tion and obedience to myself. And I am also 
 thankful to my dear mother for using me early to 
 the care of the young ones, and for her confidence 
 in me, almost always telling me why she did thus 
 and so with them. It will be her credit far more 
 than my own, if Lady Betty recovers her health. 
 The child's back can never be straightened, of 
 course, but now that her face is filling up, and she 
 is gaming color, and losing her unhealthy sallow- 
 ness, she is really very pretty, and hath a great 
 look of her mother's. 
 
 For myself, I must say that I have been far 
 happier under this roof than I ever expected to be 
 anywhere away from my home. Indeed, I don't 
 know when I have been better off. I have had 
 very few trials of temper (which were always my 
 trouble when I lived with Felicia), and every one
 
 i5o Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 is kind to me my dear honored Lady above all, 
 As to Mr. Penrose's little pets, I don't value them 
 a pin ; especially since I know the real goodness of 
 liis heart. He hath been almost daily to read with 
 Dame Yeo and old Master Dean, at the almshouses. 
 But he seems like one who hath some great trou- 
 ble on his mind. I wonder what it is ? 
 
 July 18. 
 
 I am quite sure of one thing namely, that Lady 
 Jemima hath somewhat against me, and that ever 
 since she returned from London. She treats me 
 with studied coldness and indifference, never comes 
 to my room, as she used to do, to ask me about 
 my reading and my devotions, nor stops to chat in 
 the hall, or the gardens. My Lady is just the 
 same ; but my Lord, I fancy, looks coldly on me, 
 and throws out hints against Puritans, &c. Even 
 Mr. Corbet does not come to see his cousin as often 
 as he used to do. I cannot understand it, for I am 
 sure I have done nothing to merit displeasure. 
 Mr. Penrose alone is unchanged, and we have 
 really had some pleasant talks together. He 
 preaches every week in the chapel sometimes 
 very well, too and I go to hear him ; but I know 
 not how it is, the more I hear, the more discour- 
 aged and doAvnhearted I grow. I feel downright 
 rebellious, sometimes. Mr. Penrose says it is 
 fitting we should go mourning all our days on ac- 
 count of our sins, thankful that we have so much 
 as a chance of salvation, but not building too much
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. i5i 
 
 thereupon, lest we fall short after all, and all our 
 good works be as nothing. He ought to know. 
 He is a clergyman, and a good one, but I cannot 
 feel satisfied. 
 
 July 22. 
 
 "Well, the murder is out at least a part of it. 
 Lady Jemima has treated me more and more 
 coldly all the time ; and yesterday, being in my 
 Lady's antechamber, mending and arranging of 
 some laces too fine for Brewster's eyes, I heard 
 Lady Jemima come in by the other door, in earnest 
 conversation with my Lady, and talking so loud, 
 that though I made a noise to announce my pre- 
 sence, she did not seem to heed in the least. 
 
 " You ought to send her away, Elizabeth !" I 
 heard her say, in her emphatic way. " You ought 
 not to keep her about the child a day longer !" 
 
 " I shall certainly do nothing of the sort, till I 
 see better cause than I have yet seen," replied my 
 Lady. 
 
 " Better cause !" repeated Lady Jemima, in that 
 contemptuous tone of hers which always makes ms 
 angry, whether she speaks to me or not. " "What 
 better cause do you want than that the girl is a 
 bitter Puritan an Anabaptist, for aught I know, 
 and will be sure to fill your child's mind with all 
 sorts of poisonous notions about religion and gov- 
 ernment !" 
 
 " But I have no evidence that she is so Jemima, 
 nor do I believe it. Margaret is regular, both at
 
 1 52 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 cliurcli and cliapel. She is a clergyman's daugh- 
 ter, hath been well brought up, and the Bishop of 
 Exeter told me himself that he thought I had 
 made a happy choice. He saw Margaret at home, 
 and was much pleased both with her and her 
 brother." 
 
 Now, for the first time, I discovered that they 
 were talking about me, for at first I thought it was 
 Mary they meant, and I wondered how any one 
 could think of calling her a Puritan. I knew I 
 ought not to hear more, and as I was considering 
 for a moment what to do, I heard Lady Jemima 
 say, contemptuously : 
 
 " The Bishop of Exeter, indeed ! He is a fitting 
 person, truly ! He is as much a Puritan as the 
 worst of them." 
 
 "He is your spiritual pastor and Bishop, Je- 
 mima, and, as such, is entitled to your respect !" 
 answered my Lady, more sharply than I had ever 
 heard her speak to her sister, save once. " It is a 
 wonderful thing to me, to see you and Mr. Pen- 
 rose, professing to think so highly of the priestly 
 office and authority, and yet losing no occasion to 
 condemn and vilify your own Bishop. I have 
 spoke my mind on it to Mr. Penrose, and I must 
 say to you that such conduct is neither consistent 
 nor becoming !" 
 
 Brewster coming in at this moment, and begin- 
 ning to commend my work on the lace, put a stop 
 to the conversation, and I escaped to my room, 
 more angry than ever 1 was with Felicia at home,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 163 
 
 to think that Lady Jemima should be tmng to 
 undermine me with my Lady, and to separate me 
 from my child. I was much perturbed all day, 
 insomuch that I fear I was impatient with Betty 
 even, for she asked me, rather plaintively, what was 
 the matter ; adding, " You are not angry with me, 
 are you, Margaret?" 
 
 I kissed her, and had much ado not to burst 
 out crying. However, I conquered myself, and 
 told her that she was a good girl, and that I loved 
 her dearly. 
 
 " I am sure I love you !" said she. " Aunt Je- 
 mima asked me if you were good to me, and I told 
 her that you were just as good as ever you could 
 be. But I am sure that something troubles you, 
 if you are not vexed with me, for you go red and 
 pale, and your voice does not sound natural." 
 
 " It is true, my dear, that something has hap- 
 pened to vex me, but you need not mind. I hope 
 all will come right by and by. Come, now, I will 
 teach you your task in the Catechism. You know 
 you must be well learned in it that you may teach 
 your little god-daughter by and by." 
 
 (I forgot to say, in the right place, that the 
 babes were christened the other day, I standing as 
 proxy for Lady Betty, and Mrs. Corbet for the 
 other child, who is named for her. Mr. Corbet 
 made the poor woman a handsome present, and 
 the next day she brought the babes up to tho 
 Court, to Lady Betty's great delight.) 
 
 Betty did her lessons well, and enjoyed her walk
 
 1 54 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 in the wood. I have got permission to try riding 
 for her, and Thomas is training a fine steady don- 
 key for her use, which she goes to see every day, 
 Sitting in my usual place in the wood, while Betty 
 played about, I could not but remember the con- 
 versation I had with my dear Lady, and wondered 
 if she had even then foreseen this trouble. A few 
 tears came to relieve me, as I remembered her 
 kind words. Betty espied them, and came in 
 great trouble to wipe them away. 
 
 " You must not cry, Margaret," said she, with 
 quivering lips. " I can't bear to have you cry." 
 
 "Then I wont," said I, recovering myself. 
 " There, see, the tears are all gone away." 
 
 " I am afraid they have only gone inside" said 
 the dear child, regarding me wistfully. " I am 
 afraid they will come out again by and by. You 
 said, when I was ill the other day, that we might 
 ask God to take our pains away, if He saw best. 
 Why don't you ask Him to take your trouble 
 away?" 
 
 " Why, so I will !" I answered her ; and I 
 did put up a petition then and there for grace 
 against anger and uncharitableness. I could not 
 but think it was heard, for I grew more calm in 
 spirit, and was able to think what I had bet- 
 ter do. Betty was very sober all day, and afc 
 night, she added to her prayers, of her own accord, 
 " Please take away Margaret's trouble, and make 
 her happy again." The dear little loyal soul ! 1 
 am sure of her love, at all events.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. i55 
 
 It was a custom of my clear father's, when we 
 did not have prayers in the chimch, after his voice 
 began to fail, to say the Litany with his own 
 family, every Wednesday and Friday ; and I have 
 kept up the custom of repeating the petitions on 
 those days. As I did so that night, and especially 
 at the praj'er, " O God, Merciful Father," a won- 
 derful quietness and peace seemed to come over 
 met, and I felt like a grieved child hushed and 
 quieted in its mother's arms. 'Twas as if an all 
 but visible Presence filled and sanctified the room. 
 "When I had finished, I took up my Bible to read, 
 as usual, and my eye lighted first on these words : 
 
 "If thy brother trespass against thee, go and 
 tell him his fault between him and thee alone. If 
 he shall hear thee, then thou hast gained thy bro- 
 ther." 
 
 " Surely," I thought, " this is the rule for me to 
 follow. I will go at once to Lady Jemima, and 
 lay the case before her fairly, and try to find out 
 where the trouble lies." 
 
 No sooner said than clone. I knew Lady Je- 
 mima would be in her room and up, for she nevei 
 goes to rest early. So I went and knocked at hei 
 door, and she bade me enter. I had not been in 
 her room since her return, and I noticed some 
 changes. She hath put a great crucifix over her 
 reading-desk, and taken away the cushion and 
 mats before it, as if she used to kneel on the bare 
 boards; and she hath a fine picture of the As- 
 sumption, as they call it assumption, indeed!
 
 1 56 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 'Tis to be hoped the Blessed Virgin knows not the 
 use made of her name. Lady Jemima was sitting 
 reading by her table, and as she looked up and 
 saw who it w r as at the door, she said, sharply 
 enough : 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Merton, what brings you hither at 
 this time of night ?" 
 
 " I desire to see your Ladyship alone," I 
 answered ; " and I knew that I should find you so 
 at this time, therefore I took the liberty to come." 
 
 " Very well," said she, still very short. " "What 
 is your business ? State it quickly, for I have no 
 time to spend in idle talk." 
 
 " I would fain know your Ladyship's interpreta- 
 tion of this text," I said, putting into her hands 
 the Bible I had brought with me, and pointing to 
 the text in St. Matthew, I had just read. 
 
 She relaxed a little at my words, as I thought, 
 and looked gratified; but colored scarlet as she 
 looked at the text. 
 
 " What should it mean, save just what it says ?" 
 she asked, with asperity, yet displaying a certain 
 uneasiness. "'If any person hath done you a 
 wrong, go first to him alone, and tell him his fault 
 in all kindness.' I see nothing hard to under- 
 stand in that. You are trifling with me, Mrs. 
 Merton!" 
 
 " By no means, Lady Jemima," said I ; "I 
 never was more in earnest in my life. 'Tis upon 
 that very errand I have come, since j 7 ou have not 
 come to me ; and I desire humbly to know what ifc
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. i5/ 
 
 is that you have so mucli against me, since your 
 return." 
 
 " I have not said that I had anything against 
 you," she answered. "Why should you think I 
 have?" 
 
 " I would fain hope so," I answered her. " It 
 would be lack of charity to think that you should 
 treat me so unkindly, and strive to set my honored 
 mistress against me, unless you had some cause 
 for so doing." 
 
 " How do you know that I have tried to set my 
 sister against you ?" she asked. 
 
 " Because I heard you much against my own 
 will," I answered her ; and then told her how it 
 came about. " And I would fain know, my Lady, 
 who hath so changed your mind toward me, or 
 who hath traduced me to you?" 
 
 " Nobody has traduced you !" she said, shortly. 
 
 " But somebody has given you a bad character 
 of me, I am sure," I said ; " and I have a right, 
 with all due respect, to ask who that person is." 
 
 " It is one who has knoAvn you ever since you 
 were born," said Lady Jemima, " since you must 
 know ; one on whom you have heaped many 
 injuries, even to the driving her forth of her own 
 home, among strangers, but who still wishes you 
 well. She hath told me naught of your unkindness 
 toward herself, though I can gather enough ; nor 
 did she tell me anything directly, till I asked 
 her." 
 
 "Felicia !" I exclaimed, enlightened all at once.
 
 1 58 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 "I see it all now. Felicia lias been poisoning 
 your Ladyship's mind against me." 
 
 "My mind is not poisoned against you," she 
 answered, coldly ; " but I have learned enough of 
 your rebellious temper, your disobedient carriage 
 toward your parents, and your openly avowed 
 heresies in religion, to make me aware that you 
 are no fit companion for my brother's child. Feli- 
 cia, as you disrespectfully call her, seems to me a 
 most religious, and virtuous, and sweet young 
 person, with a mind most open to receive the 
 truth, and a most becoming modesty and defer- 
 ence, a quality, Mrs. Merton, in which you your- 
 self are very deficient, let me tell you. I saw 
 some things in your conduct, even before I left 
 home, which did not please me, and I am convinced 
 that you are no fit person for your place." 
 
 " May I ask what those things were, my Lady ?" 
 J asked. 
 
 " Tour flirting and coquetting with Mr. Penrose, 
 for one thing," answered Lady Jemima. " Yes, 
 you may laugh as you please, but I have seen 
 what passed. You know he is all but vowed to 
 celibacy, and it would be a fine triumph to your 
 Puritan notions, to make him false to his pro- 
 fession." 
 
 "Lady Jemima," said I, feeling my cheeks 
 flush in spite of me, " I know not why you call me 
 a Puritan. I am an unworthy but faithful member 
 of the Church of England. I love her ways, and 
 desire her peace above all things ; and whoever has
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 169 
 
 told you to the contrary liath said falsely. Felicia 
 was ever mine enemy, and hath made me all the 
 trouble I have ever had in life, heretofore ; and I 
 believe she will not be content till she works my 
 ruin." 
 
 " You misjudge her much, and with great want 
 of charity," interrupted Lady Jemima. " She 
 desires naught but your good, and 'twas to that 
 end she spoke to me about you, beseeching me to 
 have an eye to you, that you did not get into 
 mischief, or make mischief for others. 'Tis you 
 who have injured her. As for her, I believe she 
 would not hurt a fly." 
 
 " I have known her nearly eighteen years, and 
 your Ladyship not as many weeks," said I. 
 " Which hath had the best opportunity of under- 
 standing her character ?" 
 
 " I am not apt to be deceived in my estimate of 
 character," answered Lady Jemima, stiffly. " 1 
 said to myself the first time I ever saw you, ' Here 
 is one destined to make mischief,' and so } r ou did, 
 causing a misunderstanding between me and my 
 sister the very first day you were in the house. 
 But this is unprofitable," she added, catching her- 
 self up ; " if you have no more to say, Mrs. Merton, 
 I must pray you to retire, and leave me to my 
 devotions." 
 
 "I will do so," I answered, "first taking the 
 liberty to tell your Ladyship a rule given me by 
 my Lord the Bishop of Exeter, at my coming to 
 this place : ' Never to do anything upon which you
 
 160 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 cannot ask the blessing of God.' Doubtless your 
 Ladyship will ask His blessing on your attempts to 
 undermine and defame an orphan girl, who is 
 striving with all her might to do her duty in that 
 station to which it hath pleased God to call her." 
 
 So saying, I courtesied and shut the door. I 
 thought she would have called me back, but she 
 did not, and I returned to my room, feeling grieved, 
 vexed, and discouraged, yet withal a little dis- 
 posed to laugh. 
 
 " Flirt with Mr. Pcnrose !" quoth I. " I would as 
 soon flirt with that red, yellow, and blue Saint 
 Austin in the chapel window. How can she be so 
 absurd !" 
 
 July 24. 
 
 It seems I did not improve matters by my ap- 
 peal to Lady Jemima. She will hardly speak to 
 me at all now, and I know she doth not cease to 
 prejudice others against me. Even Mrs. Judith 
 grows rather cool, or so I fancy, at least ; only my 
 Lady is just the same. I should not say only, for 
 Mr. Penrose is even kinder than ever, and Mrs. 
 Corbet and her son treat me with as much consi- 
 deration as though I were a relation of the family. 
 But I can't help feeling the change very much, for 
 I was fond of Lady Jemima, though I used some- 
 times to be vexed with her meddling ways. Be- 
 sides, I know that I have done my best since I 
 came here, and any one may see how much the 
 child has gained.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 161 
 
 It is very hard, but I see no way but to bear it 
 for the present, and that in silence. I cannot and 
 will not trouble my dear Lady with any com- 
 plaints, and I don't suppose she could help me, if 
 I did. I have passed my promise to my Lady to 
 stay for a year, unless I am sent away, and after 
 all, my lot is not as hard as hers. As old Jane 
 Betterton used to say at the end of her catalogue 
 of troubles, to my father, u I hav'n't no old man to 
 plague me, thank goodness !" 
 
 I remember once, when dear father was teaching 
 us Latin (and a kinder teacher sure never any 
 one "had), my growing terribly discouraged, and 
 thinking I never should learn. Father comforted, 
 instead of chiding me, when I burst out crying 
 over Ca3sar, his Commentaries, and told me that I 
 had only come to the hard place that every one 
 found just such a hard place in all serious under- 
 takings, and if I would only do my best, and per- 
 severe, I should soon get past it, and find I had 
 made a great step in advance ; and so I did. I 
 suppose I have now come to the hard place in 
 my service, and if I can only live it over, I shall 
 go on well again. If only I can be kept from 
 wrong doing but my natural temper is so warm, 
 and I fear I have not made much progress in 
 controlling it. 
 
 I find it hardest to forgive Felicia. Her con- 
 duct seems so wantonly malicious unless, indeed, 
 she has grown tired of Aunt Willson, and wants 
 the place herself. How she must have flattered 
 
 11
 
 1 62 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 Lady Jemima. I can see it all how she hinted, and 
 then drew back and let herself be questioned, and 
 brought out her tale with seeming reluctance, and 
 was so anxious all the time for my good. She is 
 not at home to plague mother, that is one com- 
 fort, and she will never be able to hoodwink Aunt 
 Willson, living, as she does, under the same roof. 
 
 Well, well! "'Tis all in the day's work!" as 
 Dick says, and we must take the bitter with the 
 sweet. Oh, Dick, only to put my head down on 
 thy honest shoulder, and tell all my troubles ! 
 
 July 25. 
 
 Mr. Penrose preached this evening in the chapel, 
 on charity. " The greatest of these is charity." 
 
 He made a noble discourse, and spoke, me- 
 thought, with some asperity of them that take up 
 idle reports and are ready on the least evidence 
 to believe evil of their fellows. 
 
 I dared not glance at Lady Jemima, but I saw 
 Mrs. Judith look rather uneasy, and after chapel 
 she was unusually kind to me, and asked me to 
 sup with her in her room, which I did. I thought 
 she had something on her mind she wished to say, 
 and at last it came out. 
 
 " My dear, you are not a concealed Papist, are 
 you?" 
 
 "I must be very carefully concealed if I am, 
 Mrs. Judith," I answered, laughingly ; " for I have 
 never even found it out myself. Whatever put it 
 iu your head to think mo a Papist?"
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 163 
 
 " Well, I will tell you," she answered, in a con- 
 fidential tone ; " though I am afraid you will be 
 vexed. You see, when you were so very ill, I went 
 one day to your cabinet to see if I could find any 
 smelling-salts or the like, and there, lying with 
 some other trinkets, I saw a silver medal with a 
 picture of the Virgin thereon." 
 
 " Yes," I answered, as she paused ; " I know 
 what you mean. A poor old woman at home 
 gave it me for a keepsake." 
 
 "Well, that was not all," continued Mrs. Judith. 
 " I put my hand back in the recess to take up a 
 bottle I saw there, and I suppose I touched a 
 spring, for a door opened at the back, and there 
 lay a rosary and crucifix, and a little carven stone 
 image of some saint or other." 
 
 " I know nothing about that," I answered, sur- 
 prised enough. I did not know there was any 
 such door. The things must have been there a 
 very long time, I think. Did you take them out, 
 Mrs. Judith?" 
 
 " Not I, Mistress Merton !" answered the dear 
 old woman. " I had no call to be prying into 
 your secrets, if you have any. So I just laid 
 matters as they were before, and locked the cabi- 
 net, that no one else should meddle. But oh, my 
 dear, you are not a Papist nor a Puritan, are 
 you ?" 
 
 I could not help laughing, but stopped, as I saw 
 the tears in the old lady's eyes. 
 
 "Dearest Mrs. Judith," said I, "I begin to
 
 164 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 think that I must be just in the right place, since 
 Lady Jemima calls me a Puritan, and you think 
 me a Papist. But I solemnly assure you I am 
 neither Papist nor Puritan, Anabaptist nor Turk, 
 nor do I worship the sun and moon, as Doctor 
 Parnell says the old heathens used to do on the 
 great barrow up on the moor. I am just a simple 
 Churchwoman, as all my family have been. But 
 Mrs. Judith, if you are so startled at seeing a little 
 medal in my cabinet, what do you think of somo 
 other rooms in the house, and of the pictures Mr. 
 Penrose has just put up in the chapel?" 
 
 " I like them not, my dear, I like them not," 
 said Mrs. Judith, shaking her head, solemnly. " It 
 looks too much like bringing back the old religion 
 for denying of which my grandfather died bravely 
 at the stake. But I am so glad you are not a 
 Papist ! Do have some of this junket, now do, my 
 dear heart ! I made it with my own hands, and 
 the clotted cream is an inch thick on the top." 
 
 I was in no ways averse to the junket, and so 
 all was well once more between Mrs. Judith and 
 me. I cannot but note here what a different spirit 
 in the two ! Lady Jemima telling every one she 
 can get to listen to her of the great discovery she 
 fancies she has made to my disadvantage Mrs. 
 Judith locking up my cabinet, lest some one else 
 should see what she had seen and I be injured 
 thereby. 
 
 I have been examining this said cabinet, and 
 have found, not only the rosary and the little mar-
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. i65 
 
 ble saint, but several other small matters, none of 
 them of any great value, save a rose noble of King 
 Henry's clay. I carried them all to my Lady, but 
 she bade me keep them if I liked, so I set the saint 
 on the top of my cabinet. 'Tis a fair little image, 
 carven in alabaster, perfect, but somewhat yellow 
 with time, and represents a young maid with spin- 
 dle and distaff, and and a lamb by her side. Mr. 
 Penrose says it is meant for St. Agnes, and has 
 promised to find out her history for me. Poor 
 little lady, she hath had a long and dark imprison- 
 ment, if, as my Lady supposes, she has been hid 
 there since the early days of King James ; but she 
 looks very smiling. Lady Betty will have it that 
 she is Una, with her milk-white lamb, about which 
 I have read to her in " Spencer his Fairy Queen." 
 
 July 26. 
 
 I can see that Mr. Penrose's sermon has done 
 me no good with Lady Jemima, and only hurt 
 himself with her. They were talking together a 
 long time this morning, in the garden, and parted 
 evidently ill-pleased with each other I could see 
 thus much from my window. 
 
 This has been a great day for Betty. She has 
 taken her first ride on the donkey, Thomas leading 
 him, and I walking by her side. I held her at first, 
 as she seemed rather timid, and I wanted her by 
 no means to have a fright ; but presently she gained 
 more confidence and would ride alone. We did 
 not go far the first day, for I did not wish her to
 
 1 66 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 be overtired, but she enjoyed herself wonderfully. 
 Mr. Corbet joined us as we were returning up the 
 avenue, and taking Thomas's place, led the donkey 
 himself. He told me a great piece of news 
 namely, that the Bishop is coming here within a 
 short time. Now I shall see whether he will re- 
 member me, or whether, as Felicia said, he has 
 never given me a thought. Mr. Corbet looked 
 grave and disturbed, and made somewhat absent 
 answers to Betty's questions, which she remarking, 
 he roused himself to be more attentive. 
 
 " Some day, perhaps, Margaret and I shall come 
 down to your house to see you, Cousin Walter," 
 said Lady Betty. " I should love to see Corby-End, 
 wouldn't yoii, Margaret?" 
 
 "And Corby-End would love to see you," an- 
 swered Mr. Corbet: "but maybe Mrs. Morton 
 would find the walk long." 
 
 "O no!" I answered. "I have been used to 
 long walks, and I often walk down to the Parson- 
 age." 
 
 "Have you ever been down to the cliff?" asked 
 Mr. Corbet. 
 
 I told him that I had not ; that I was rather 
 frightened at the steepness of the path, and the 
 roaring of the waterfall so near. 
 
 " It looks more dangerous than it really is," said 
 Mr. Corbet. " The little children from the Cove 
 come up every day to school. 'Tis a hard walk 
 for them, and but for seeming to interfere with 
 Mrs. Ellenwood, I would set up a dame school
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 167 
 
 down there for the little lads and maids. But I 
 believe I should have few willing pupils. The 
 children are all devoted to their present mistress, 
 who is indeed an admirable person. But you 
 must go down there some d&y, Mrs. Merton, and 
 make acquaintance with my old friend, Uncle 
 Jan Lee and his family. They are well worth 
 knowing.' 
 
 At supper time, Mr. Corbet being present, my 
 Lord asked him if he had seen Doctor Parnell, 
 adding that to him the old man seemed failing. 
 
 " I see that he is so, and I am very sorry," an- 
 swered Mr. Corbet. "There are few better men 
 than he. I would all parish clergymen were like 
 him." 
 
 "So would not I, though I like the old man 
 well enough," replied my Lord. " He is too stiff- 
 necked for me, and I like not his opposing of the 
 Sunday sports on the Green. The King and the 
 Archbishop have approved them, and what is good 
 enough for his betters might, one would think, be 
 good enough for him." 
 
 "However, the Archbishop does not sanction 
 them by his example," said Mr. Corbet. 
 
 Thereupon ensued an argument on Sunday 
 games in general, in which Mr. Corbet seemed to me 
 to have much the best of it, he keeping cool, while 
 my Lord grew very warm, and said the same thing 
 over and over, not without some oaths better left 
 out. Catching Mr. Corbet's eye, I ventured to 
 glance toward my Lady, who I saw was uneasy, as
 
 1 68 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 she always is when there is danger of one of my 
 Lord's tantrums. He took the hint at once, and 
 smilingly changed the subject, by asking my Lord 
 if he had heard, I know not what wonderful tale 
 of a stag lately killed by Sir Thomas Fulton. My 
 Lord opened on the scent of the stag directly, and 
 so all ended well. Mr. Penrose was not present, nor 
 Lady Jemima. 
 
 After supper Mr. Corbet came to me as I was 
 passing through the hall, and said : 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Merton, for the hint." 
 
 " I fear you must think me too bold !" I an- 
 swered, feeling my cheeks flush scarlet : " but a 
 little thing disturbs my Lady now-a-days." 
 
 "I shall never think you aught but what you 
 are," said he ; " but tell me, how does this matter 
 strike you ?" 
 
 I told him that I thought as he did that such 
 sports, even when harmless in themselves, were ill- 
 suited to the Lord's day, which w r as needed for 
 religious improvement, and meditation, and added 
 that my father used to say that if masters were so 
 anxious for the poor to have a holiday, it would 
 be far better to give them time for recreation dur- 
 ing the week, than thus to run the risk of driving 
 out in the afternoon all the religious impressions 
 made in the morning. Just as I was saying good- 
 night, my Lord came into the hall. 
 
 "So, Master "Watty, the Puritan, you have 
 found some one to agree with your strait-laced 
 notions !" said he. " Mrs. Merton, I dare sa} T , can
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 169 
 
 give you text for text and groan for groan. 
 Come, Mrs. Merton, let us have a specimen of your 
 power. Give us a text !" 
 
 " I can think of but one at this minute, my Lord," 
 I answered, I fear not in the meekest tone, " and 
 that is this : ' Judge not, that ye be not judged !"' 
 
 "Well put, Mistress Presician!" said my Lord, 
 with a great laugh. " I' see there is something 
 within that can strike fire, after all. But I bid you 
 beware, Walter. You are poaching on another 
 man's manor." 
 
 I waited to hear no more, but escaped and went 
 to my child. I wish they would let me sup with 
 her all the time. I "suppose I shall do so next 
 week, when the Bishop comes to stay. 
 
 July 29. 
 
 This day we were returning up one of the pathf 
 in the chase. Betty had taken quite a long ride, 
 and was full of the wonderful things she had seen, 
 especially of the ruins of the old abbey. She was 
 talking with great animation, when, at a turn in 
 the road, we met my Lord. One can never be sure 
 of his mood, and I am always rather uneasy when 
 Betty encounters her father, but ho was in high 
 good humor this day, having been angling and met 
 with great success. 
 
 " Hey-day ! whom have we here ?" he exclaimed. 
 " Surely this bold horse-woman, or donkey-woman, 
 can never be Betty ! Why, what change has come
 
 170 Lady Betty s Governess; or, 
 
 over yon, child ? Hold up your liead and let mo 
 look at you !" 
 
 Smilling and blushing, Lady Betty held up her 
 head. She did really look wonderfully pretty. 
 
 " Why, the fairies have been at work with you. 
 Betty!" said my Lord. "I never in all my life 
 saw such a change ! But can you walk as well as 
 ride?" 
 
 " O yes, papa !" answered the child. " I can 
 run a little, too, and I have learned to read and 
 to write, and I sleep almost all night, now. 
 I did not hear the clock strike but twice last 
 night," 
 
 " But what is it ?" questioned my Lord. " What 
 medicines have you given her ?" 
 
 I told him that I had given no medicines except 
 change of air, exercise, and amusement; that I 
 had in fact treated Lady Betty just as my mother 
 had treated her own younger children, and I 
 hoped with like good results. I added that I 
 thought, unless she had some new drawback, Lady 
 Betty might yet grow up to be a healthy woman. 
 He muttered somewhat to himself, and then 
 turned to Betty again, asking her about her ride, 
 and telling her she should have a pony some day. 
 
 " I did not think you could sit so straight," said 
 he. Betty straightened up still more at the words 
 and looked so much pleased, that I think my 
 Lord's heart was touched. He kissed her, a 
 thing I never saw him do before, told hex to be a 
 good maid, and get well as fast as she conld ; and
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 171 
 
 then turning to me, he said, with real feeling and 
 dignity : 
 
 " I thank you heartily, Mrs. Margaret Merton, 
 for what you have done for the child, and you 
 shall find that I do. I could not have thought 
 such a change would be wrought in so short a 
 time. It was a good day, as my Lady says, that 
 brought you to us. Only mind," he added, relaps- 
 ing into his usual manner, " mind you teach her 
 none of your new-light notions. I will not have 
 her made a Puritan, no, not if she never sets foot 
 to ground again." 
 
 ""What is a Puritan, papa?" asked Lady Betty. 
 
 "A Puritan, child? How shall I tell you ? A 
 Puritan is one who sings naught but Psalms 
 through his nose, and wears his hair cropped 
 close, and is always turning up his eyes, and 
 hates king and church, and thinks a play-book, 
 or a romance, or a dance round the May-pole, 
 worse than the devil himself." 
 
 " Then I am sure Margaret is not a Puritan !" 
 said Betty, eagerly ; " for she sings me all sorts 
 of merry songs, and not through her nose at all, 
 and she has beautiful long hair, almost down to 
 her feet, and she makes me say a prayer for the 
 king and queen every day. And she is teaching 
 me the Catechism, and she does not hate all 
 romances or play-books, for she has ' The Fairy 
 Queen,' and some of Mr. Shakespeare's plays 
 in her room, and she read one to me, all. about 
 Puck and Titania, and some poor men that played
 
 172 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 a play before the Duke what is its name, Mar- 
 garet?" 
 
 " ' The Midsummer Night's Dream/ " I told her. 
 
 "And she can dance beside, for she showed mo 
 how her mother taught her to dance the Corauts," 
 continued Betty, eagerly. " So, you see, she can- 
 not be a Puritan !" 
 
 "Argued point by point, like a good advocate," 
 said my Lord, laughing. " "Well, well, child, you 
 do well to speak up for your friend. I dare say it 
 is all nonsense what your aunt says." 
 
 And with that he bade us good momiug, and 
 went on his way whistling. 
 
 August 1. 
 
 Dear good Doctor Parnell died this morning, 
 just at sunrise. Ho has been ailing for some days, 
 but it was only yesterday that they thought him 
 near his end. Mr. Corbet and Mr. Penrose sat 
 up with him all night. He did not sleep much, 
 but spoke many times, sometimes of his sister, 
 whom he solemnly commended to Mr. Corbet's 
 care, sometimes of the parish, and again of the 
 joys of heaven, where he seemed, Mr. Penrose 
 said, to feel himself already translated. Ho 
 thought of everybody, and even sent me, by 
 Mr Penrose, his parting blessing, and a little book 
 of devotions. 
 
 He died just as the sun was rising, commending 
 his soul to God, without any appearance of fear 
 or anxiety. Mr. PenroSe, telling me the story,
 
 77/6' Corbet Chronicles. 173 
 
 was affected even to tears, and I wept with him, 
 feeling that I had lost a friend. 
 
 I went down to-day to bid him a last farewell, 
 and to see Mistress Parnell. She is as it wer? 
 stunned by the blow. She said to me : 
 
 "I am several years older than my brother 
 and I had arranged everything for my leaving 
 him ; but I never once thought of his going first 
 and leaving me. Ah well, I am thankful that in 
 the course of nature I cannot be long behind him. 
 Mr. Penrose is a good young man, and I think he 
 will be kind to the poor folks." 
 
 " Mr. Penrose !" said I; and then it came out 
 that my Lord had promised the living to Mr. 
 Penrose. It is a great piece of preferment for 
 so young a man, the living being a very good 
 one ; and I am glad he is so well provided 
 for. 
 
 My Lord joked with him a little, at supper, and 
 said somewhat about a mistress for the parsonage ; 
 at which Lady Jemima said hotly enough, that 
 Mr. Penrose was not a marrying priest. He cast 
 a glance at her, as if he were not over well- 
 pleased by her interference, and said, very soberly, 
 that he counted not the house his own, so long as 
 the corpse of its former master lay under its roof, 
 and therefore he had no need to take any order 
 about a mistress for the same as yet ; whereat my 
 Lady smiled approvingly, and my Lord seemed 
 somewhat dashed. I thought it was very prettily 
 said of him, for my part. I wish he had a good
 
 174 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 sensible wife. He would not have nearly so many 
 absurd quiddities if be were married. 
 
 August 4. 
 
 Doctor Parnell was buried this day in tlie 
 churchyard, as he desired, and in a spot which he 
 himself selected long ago. Mistress Parnell told 
 me afterward ifc was by the side of a young lady, 
 a cousin of the Mrs. Corbet that then was, who 
 died more than forty years ago. It seems there 
 were some love passages between them, but she 
 being caught in a heavy storm of rain, took a 
 quick consumption and died, her lover attending 
 her, and cheering her last moments by his prayers. 
 Since that time he Avould never hear of taking a 
 wife, though some of good family were proposed to 
 him, he being accounted rich ; but he would have 
 none of them, though he was a great promoter of 
 marriage in the parish, and always made the 
 brides a present. Methought a pretty story of 
 constancy. 
 
 August 6. 
 
 Here is a change of affairs with a witness ! Mr. 
 Penrose has made up his mind with respect to a 
 mistress for the parsonage, and upon whom should 
 nis choice fall but on my unworthy self. I never 
 was so astounded in all my life, as when my Lady 
 told me (for he broke the matter to her in the first 
 place); and I told her I thought she must be mis- 
 taken, that he must have meant somebody else.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 175 
 
 " I hardly know who else he could mean, unless 
 you think Lady Jemima was the person," answered 
 my Lady, smiling. "Besides, he was quite too 
 explicit, and too much in earnest to leave room for 
 a mistake. 'Tis your own little self he wants, 
 sweetheart, and nobody else.' 
 
 " Then, my Lady, ' his want must be his master/ 
 as they say in our country," I said. " I cannot 
 marry Mr. Penrose." 
 
 " Bethink you this is a grave matter," said my 
 Lady. " Here, sit you down and let us talk it 
 over reasonably." 
 
 "We were talking in her closet, and I sat down, 
 not on the chair beside her, but on a hassock at 
 her feet. I was glad of the permission, for what 
 with excitement and some other feeling, I know not 
 what, I trembled from head to foot. 
 
 "Bethink you well; this is a grave matter,' 
 repeated my Lady. " Mr. Penrose is an excellent 
 man, and a gentleman. He hath now a good liv- 
 ing, and you will have such a settlement for life as 
 belongs to few at your age." 
 
 " I know it, my Lady," I answered, as she 
 seemed to pause for a reply. " I know all that, 
 and that it is an offer far above my deserts, but I 
 cannot marry him." 
 
 "But, sweetheart, have you never given Mr. 
 Penrose cause to think that you would marry him 
 at the least that you were not averse to him ?" said 
 my Lady. 
 
 "No, madam, that I have not, I am sure," I
 
 1 76 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 answered, eagerly. "How could I, when I no 
 more expected such an offer from him, than from 
 St. Thomas of Canterbury, in the chancel window ? 
 I never even thought of such a thing, till Lady 
 Jemima accused me of flirting with him ; and 
 since then I have seen Mr. Penrose hardly at all. 
 Indeed, my Lady, I have given him no reason, and 
 he is a coxcomb if he says I have !" 
 
 " Gently, gently !" said my Lady, laughingly 
 (which she does but rarely). " Why, what a little 
 pepper-pot it is, after all ! Mr. Penrose neither 
 said nor hinted aught of the kind, so you need not 
 be so hot against him. 'Tis no insult, sure, for a 
 good gentleman to wish to marry you." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my Lady," I faltered. 
 And then, like a great baby, I burst out crying, and 
 sobbed, " O mother, mother ! I want my own 
 mother !" Instead of chiding me, as I deserved, 
 my dear Lady laid my head against her knee, and 
 kissed and soothed me, till I was able to recover 
 some self-control. Then she asked me again, 
 what objection I had to Mr. Penrose. 
 
 " I don't know that I have any particular objec- 
 tion, my Lady, only that he is Mr. Penrose," I an- 
 swered. " I liked him well enough till he wanted 
 to marry me, and now I cannot bear him. Beside, 
 my Lady, I cannot leave you and Lady Betty. I 
 am promised to you for a year, at least. Oh, my 
 Lady, don't turn against me and send me away ! 
 Indeed, the stories about me are not true. I 
 am no Puritan, and" I found the tears were
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 177 
 
 corning again, so T checked myself and said no 
 more. 
 
 " I have no wish to get rid of you, Margaret," 
 answered my Lady, gravely and kindly. " I have 
 seen no fault in you myself, and I pay no heed to 
 idle tales. 'Tis true I have written to your Aunt 
 "Willson about the matter, but only that I might 
 have the better means of defending you. It is my 
 most earnest wish that you should continue my 
 child's governess as long as she wants one. But, 
 at the same time, I would not selfishly stand in the 
 way of your prosperity. I know it is not as pleasant 
 to you here, as it has been, and it will be still less 
 so if I am taken away. You may never have such 
 another offer, and I want you to do what is best 
 for yourself." 
 
 "I cannot marry Mr. Penrose, my Lady, if I 
 should never have another offer in all my life," I 
 answered. " I have no wish but to live with you, 
 and take care of Lady Betty ; and if things are 
 not quite so pleasant now, I dare say they will 
 come round again, and if they do not, why I must 
 expect some trouble as well as other folk. ' 'Tis 
 all in the day's work !' as brother Richard says." 
 
 " But would not brother Richard say that ' 'twas 
 in the day's work' to marry and settle when so 
 good an offer came in your way?" asked my 
 Lady. 
 
 " No, madam, I think not," I answered. " Rich- 
 ard gave up all his own plans in life, that ho 
 might help clear mother, and I came here to do the 
 
 12
 
 1 78 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 same thing. I arn sure he would say I ought to 
 consider her more than myself." 
 
 "But, see you not, sweetheart, that this mar- 
 riage would put you in a better position to help 
 your mother than you are now ?" argued my Lady. 
 "What with his place as chaplain, which he is 
 still to keep, and his living, Mr. Penrose will be 
 well to do, and he is like to rise, holding as he 
 does in all things with the Archbishop, who is all 
 powerful now-a-days. He will be able greatly to 
 help your mother and the younger children." 
 
 " Able is one thing, and willing is another, my 
 Lady !" I answered. " 'Tis not every man who 
 would wish to be burdened with his wife's 
 family, nor should I like to ask my husband to 
 support my mother. I would rather do it ni}*- 
 self." 
 
 "I am afraid you are very proud, Margaret," 
 said my Lady, shaking her head. 
 
 " Perhaps so, my Lady," I answered. " But I 
 pray you, dear Lady, do not urge me farther. I 
 am greatly beholden to Mr. Penrose for his offer," 
 (I am afraid this was a fib. I did not feel be- 
 holden to him at all, but very much as if I should 
 love to box his ears for him ;) " but I never can 
 marry him in the world." 
 
 " Well, well, you shall not be urged," said my 
 Lady. " I will tell him what you say, but I feel sure 
 he will not be satisfied without talking to yourself. 
 And, Margaret, let me add one thing more. My 
 Lord hath gotten hold of this matter through 110
 
 The Cot bet CJiromcles. 179 
 
 good-will of mine, but by Mr. Penrose'e bad man- 
 agement ; and 'tis like he may rally you upon it. 
 Do not you get angry if he does, but laugh in 
 your turn. Learn to rule that fire within, and it 
 will save you a great deal of trouble, my little one." 
 She bent and kissed me as she spoke, and I 
 kissed her beautiful hand. " Oh, my dear Lady !" 
 I said, out of the fulness of my heart, " if I could 
 only do anything to return or requite your good- 
 ness to me !" 
 
 " Then I will tell you what you may do," said 
 she, smiling. "I am going to spend the day at 
 Corby-End with my cousins, and you may take 
 the opportunity to look over all my laces and lay 
 out those which need repairing. The work is too 
 fine for Brewster's eyes, and I know you love to 
 do it. Bring Betty in here and let her superintend 
 the operation." 
 
 I knew Betty would be delighted with the 
 change, and I was glad to hear that I need not 
 meet my Lord for one day, at least. 
 
 So Betty and I spent the morning very comfort- 
 ably, and I got quite cooled down over the laces, 
 and was able to look at the matter reasonably. I 
 am ashamed now to think how foolishly I behaved, 
 and how absurd it was in me to be so angry with 
 poor Mr. Penrose. I am sure it was kind of him to 
 think of me. All the same, I would never marry him 
 if there were not another man in all the world. I 
 only hope he wall take my Lady's word for it, and 
 not desire to see me himself.
 
 180 Lady Betty 3 Governess; or, 
 
 August 8. 
 
 It turned out as my Lady said. Mr. Penrose 
 would not be satisfied without talking with me 
 himself, and trying to move my resolution. He 
 used many arguments, as the advantage to my 
 family, my having such a pleasant home near to my 
 Lady, chances of usefulness in the parish, and so 
 on, till at last I lost patience a little, and said : 
 
 " Mr. Penrose, you are but wasting your breath. 
 If I loved you as I am sure a woman ought to 
 love the man she marries, I should need none of 
 these persuasions, and as I love you not, they are 
 all thrown away." 
 
 " You think, then, that I could not make you 
 happy?" said he. " I know I am faulty, and that 
 you have often seen ine peevish ; but I would do 
 my best, Margaret." 
 
 " I don't doubt you would," I answered him. 
 " As for your faults, if I loved you at all, I know 
 I should love you none the less for them, but per- 
 haps all the more. But I have seen married life 
 only from the outside, 'tis true and I am sure 
 the trials of temper which come in the happiest 
 marriage, would be too much for me, unless I 
 Well, the whole of the matter is, Mr. Penrose, I 
 cannot think of it. I am sorry if I have been 
 to blame ; but I do assure you solemnly, that till 
 my Lady broke it to me, I no more thought of 
 your wanting me, than I did of being Queen of 
 England." 
 
 " You have not been to blame," said Mr. Pen-
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 181 
 
 rose, abruptly. " Nothing is to be blamed but my 
 own miserable folly in thinking that one such as 
 you could ever fancy such a lout as I am." 
 
 " Now you are just as far the other way," said I. 
 "You are quite my equal in every respect, and 
 very much my superior in most things. I am 
 greatly honored by your regard, and do really 
 wish that I could return it. You must see that I 
 should have everything to gain, if I did, and there- 
 fore you should allow that my refusal is disinte- 
 rested. Besides, even if I did, there is another 
 lion in the way. I have promised my Lady, in 
 the most solemn manner, not to leave Lady Betty 
 for at least a year." 
 
 I was sorry I said as much, for he caught at it 
 directly. 
 
 " Then you will wait that time before coming to 
 a final decision. You will let me try to change 
 your mind. I promise you that you shall not 
 be urged or annoyed in any way. Only wait a 
 year before quite deciding." 
 
 " I do not feel that a year will make the least 
 difference," said I, feeling vexed at him and at 
 myself. " I wish you would put the matter out of 
 your head, and marry somebody else." 
 
 "I shall never marry anybody else," said he, 
 flashing up. " It may be this disappointment is a 
 punishment laid upon me for entertaining the 
 notion of marriage at all. I suppose Lady Jemi- 
 ma would say so." 
 
 " Never mind Lady Jemima, but follow your own
 
 1 82 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 good sense, Mr. Penrose," said I. " Do you think 
 if marriage had been such a sin, so many of the 
 apostles would have married ? I hope to see you 
 well settled with a wife yet, and as happy as you 
 deserve to be in your own family. Then I will 
 come and see you, and be Aunt Margaret to every 
 one, though Lady Betty says aunts are always 
 cross." 
 
 He smiled faintly, kissed my hand, and went 
 away looking very crestfallen, and I went back to 
 my room, and had a good cry, partly because I 
 was sorry for him, partly, I believe, because I was 
 a little sorry for myself. He is a good man, that 
 I am sure of, and a gentleman bred as well as 
 born, which is more than one can say for some 
 folks; and the parsonage is so nice, and then it 
 would be so pleasant to have a home to which I 
 could ask dear mother. I shall never have another 
 so good a chance of settling in life to advantage. 
 
 But after all, I feel that I never can bring my 
 mind to many Mr. Penrose. I could as soon sell 
 myself for a slave. And I should not make him 
 happy, either. I feel sure that all the good would 
 die out of me, and all the evil increase tenfold. I 
 could never ask God's blessing on such a mar- 
 riage. 
 
 When I went back to Lady Betty I found her in 
 tears, and Mary in vain trying to pacify her. It 
 seems the story of Mr. Penrose's offer has gone all 
 through the household (thanks, I must say, to his 
 own awkwardness in the matter), and Mary, who.
 
 Tlie Corbet CJirouicles. 183 
 
 with her good qualities.is somewhat of a gossip, had 
 been telling Betty, thinking, to be sure, the child 
 would be delighted. As soon as I came near, 
 Betty threw her arms round my neck, and sobbed 
 out, " O Margaret, don't go away and leave me ! 
 I shall die if you do !" 
 
 " But, Lady Betty, Mrs. Merton will be no far- 
 ther away than the parsonage, and you can ride 
 down to see her on your donkey," said Mary. 
 
 " I wont !" cried Betty, in something of her old 
 tone. " I will never go near the parsonage !" 
 , " You had better wait till you are asked, my 
 dear !" said I, a little sharply. " If you do not go 
 thither till you go to see me, it will be a long time 
 first. Mary, you would do much better to be 
 about your work, than to be gossipping about my 
 affairs. You have made the bed very ill, and the 
 hangings are all in strings, nor have you put away 
 your Lady's clothes, nor dusted properly. And 
 you, Lady Betty, have neglected your lesson to 
 hear and fret yourself over this idle matter. If 
 you do so again, I shall set you a double task." 
 
 Dick used to say, laughing, that I could be 
 awfully dignified when I chose, and I suppose I 
 was so now, for poor Mary looked very much 
 scared, and began to make apologies ; but I cufc 
 her short. 
 
 " I wish to hear no more," said I. " Do your 
 work over, and do it properly, and another time 
 remember that my affairs are not yours. Lady 
 Betty, you can bring your book into the gallery,
 
 184 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 and learn your lesson there, till this room is fifc for 
 you!" 
 
 Lady Betty took her book and followed me, 
 meekly enough. As I closed the door, I heard 
 Mary say to herself, in a tone of wonder : 
 
 " O dear ! Then she don't mean to have the par- 
 son, after all !" 
 
 I set a chair for Betty in her favorite window, 
 and took my place beside her with my embroidery. 
 After a little Lady Betty said, timidly, " You are 
 not vexed with me, are you, Margaret?" 
 
 " Yes, I am !" I answered. " 'Twas not like a 
 little lady to let Mary gossip to you about me and 
 Mr. Penrose. My Lady, your mother, would be 
 ill-pleased if she knew you had done such a thing. 
 I shall not tell her, but you must never do so again. 
 Come now, learn your lesson, and then we will go 
 out into the chase." 
 
 Mr. Corbet joined us in the chase. I think he 
 must have seen that something was the matter, but 
 he made no allusion to it ; on the contrary, he began 
 telling Betty stories of his travels and the wonders 
 he hath seen, and soon effectually diverted not only 
 her but myself. He hath been to America two or 
 three tunes, and hath seen the place whither so 
 many colonists are now going. He says it is a fair 
 land and fertile enough, but that the winters are 
 long and severe, and the perils many, both from 
 savages and wild beasts. Yet more and more 
 people go thither every year, and he thinks that
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. i85 
 
 in time the settlement may be one of considerable 
 importance. 
 
 " What sort of people go thither?" I asked him. 
 
 "Mostly people of substance and good char- 
 acter," he answered. "None of very high rank, 
 that I have heard of, but many gentlemen have 
 gone from this country, and more substantial yeo- 
 men and tradesmen ; but all of the sort called Puri- 
 tans. A good many of the descendants of the 
 French Huguenots have also joined them, driven out 
 by this new edict concerning their worship, and 
 obliging them to conform. The Court is doing 
 here what Mazarin hath done in France, namely, 
 sending away the wealth and industry of the coun- 
 try to enrich, foreign lands. However, in this case, 
 it may turn to good in the end, for I believe the 
 trade to North America will in time grow so great 
 as to be valuable to the mother country." 
 
 " Think you that the Church of England will be 
 benefited by these extreme measures ?" I ventured 
 to ask him. 
 
 " So far from it, that she hath need to pray that 
 she may be delivered from the foes of her own 
 household," said he. " But that I believe her to 
 be founded on the rock of Divine Truth, I should 
 despair of her cause, and think the dark ages were 
 coming back again." 
 
 " Yet the Archbishop professes a great hatred of 
 popery !" I said. " They say he hath refused a car- 
 dinal's hat more than once." 
 
 " The Archbishop thinks mayhap that he would
 
 1 86 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 rather be King of Brentford than Lackey in Lon- 
 don!" said Mr. Corbet, dryly. "What signifies 
 lacking the name, if we have all the worst errors of 
 the thing ? I would as soon have an Italian Pope 
 as an English one, and the Star Chamber seems 
 like to rival the Inquisition in its cruelties. But 
 we will talk no more of these grave matters now," 
 he added, seeing Betty's eyes wide open. " I won- 
 der if she ever heard the story of how Will Atkins 
 and I saved the Indian woman's babe from the 
 lion?" 
 
 Betty had never heard the tale, and " did seri- 
 ously her ear incline," like Desdemona in the 
 play. If she were older but she is only a child, 
 and it can do no harm. Only for her misfortune it 
 would be a good marriage but then Mr. Corbet is 
 past thirty nearer forty, I should say. He tells a 
 story better than any one I ever heard, neither 
 speaking too much of himself nor affecting a false 
 modesty. He hath read and reflected much, as 
 well as seen a great deal of the world ; but Mrs. 
 Judith says the Corbets are naturally scholars. The 
 families have been so much mixed up with inter- 
 marriages and constant intercourse, that I should 
 think it would he hard to tell which was Corbet 
 and which was Stanton. 
 
 When the tale of the lion was ended ('tis not a 
 true lion, either, Mr. Corbet says, but a much 
 smaller, though very fierce beast), I told Betty it was 
 time to go in, and Mr. Corbet took his leave. 
 
 I dined in the nursery, but went down to supper,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 187 
 
 where I had to meet my Lord's jokes, as I expected, 
 but he was in a good humor, and more inclined, I 
 thought, to be merry at his sister's expense than 
 at mine, reminding her of what she had said about 
 Mr Penrose not being a marrying priest, and tell- 
 ing her that her turn would come next; whereat 
 she was very angry, which only led him on to tease 
 lier the more. Then he turned to me, and swore I 
 was a fool not to have the parson, adding that he 
 would have put the parsonage in good order for mo, 
 but he would not touch it for Mr. Penrose. It 
 was good enough for a bachelor. 
 
 "Perhaps Margaret may think better of it," said 
 my Lady. " She is but young, and she is pro- 
 mised to me for a year at least. There is no time 
 lost. She is not yet eighteen." 
 
 " Nay, that is not fair to keep the poor fish on 
 3'our hook so long, Margaret !" said my Lord. 
 " Either land him or let him go." 
 
 "No fear of her landing him!" remarked Lady 
 .Jemima, with a sneer. " She is angling for higher 
 game. She fishes for salmon, not for trout." 
 
 I felt my face grow scarlet, but I would not say 
 a word. My Lord looked from one to another. 
 "What do you mean?" he asked, wonder- 
 
 ingly- 
 
 '*' Mr. Corbet finds the chase wondrous attractive 
 of mornings!" returned Lady Jemima, with ano- 
 ther sneer. "He is very fond of poor Betty's 
 society, now-a-days. ' Birds of a feather flock to- 
 gether,' they say !"
 
 1 88 Lady Betty s Governess; or, 
 
 " So ! I take your meaning," said my Lord. " Is 
 tliat true, Mrs. Merton, that you are setting your 
 cap at my cousin, and think Corby-End at present, 
 and Stanton Court in reversion, mayhap, better 
 than Stanton Parsonage? Is that Jem's mean- 
 ing?" 
 
 "What Lady Jemima means she can perhaps 
 explain herself;" said I,. rising from the table. 
 " Meantime I must beg your Ladyship's permission 
 to retire, and henceforth to take my meals with 
 Lady Betty in the nursery, or with Mrs. Judith. 
 There at least I shall be safe from insult !" 
 
 My Lord stared a moment, and then burst out 
 into one of his great laughs. 
 
 " Gad-a-mercy, what a firebrand it is!" said he, 
 as soon as he could speak : " who could think 
 gentle Mrs. Merton could look so like a queen of 
 tragedy ! Nay, nay, sit you down, my maid, and 
 finish your supper, and nobody shall affront you. 
 What, then ! I must have my joke, you know, and, 
 if Wat did make love to you under pretext of car- 
 ing for the child, it would not be the first time such 
 a thing has chanced. Many a long dull sermon 
 have I sat out under my wife's uncle the Bishop, that 
 I might have the pleasure of sitting next her, and 
 reading from the same book. Come now, sit down 
 again, and care you not for my jokes nor for sister 
 Jem's sour grapes !" 
 
 "You are blind, brother, utterly blind!" said 
 Lady Jemima, as I resumed my seat, feeling rather 
 ashamed of my outburst.
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 189 
 
 "And you are spiteful, Jem !" retorted my Lord. 
 " You need not grudge every other woman a sweet- 
 heart because you have none !" 
 
 It was now Lady Jemima's turn to leave the 
 table, which she did, and the room too, slammicg 
 the door with some force behind her. My Lord 
 laughed again, and fell to talking to my Lady of 
 the days of their first acquaintance at King James' 
 Court. After supper he challenged me to play 
 backgammon with him, and so I did. He was 
 very kind, and even courtly, as he knows how to be 
 well enough ; only at my going away, he detained 
 me, and said, very seriously : 
 
 " One word, my maid. Do not you lose your 
 heart to Mr. Corbet. He is the next heir to the 
 Earldom, and like to be lord of all, should my 
 Lady miscarry, which heaven forbid, and he 
 must many according to his rank. I believe not 
 my sister's words have anything in them, but ' fore- 
 warned is forearmed,' you know. You are a good 
 girl, I truly believe, and my Lady loves and trusts 
 you, and if for no other reason, I would be loth to 
 have any trouble arise." 
 
 "You need not fear me, my Lord," I answered. 
 " I am but a poor governess, 'tis true, but I am a 
 gentlewoman born and bred, as much so in my 
 station as Lady Jemima in hers, and I do not 
 think I am like to forget what is due to myself, 
 even if I did not remember my duty to your Lord- 
 ship's family." 
 
 " Tis well said," answered my Lord, seeming no
 
 190 Ladv Betty's Governess. 
 
 way displeased by my frankness. " I like ycmr 
 spirit. As for Penrose, you shall not be teased 
 about him. He is a good fellow, and I should be 
 well pleased to see him fitted with as good a wife as 
 yourself ; besides that I can't but enjoy the joke of 
 the thing ; but 'tis early times yet, and he can afford 
 to wait. Come, you bear me no malice, do you?" 
 
 I never liked my Lord so well, and was very 
 willing to part good friends with him. As for 
 Lady Jemima, I can hardly think of her with 
 patience, much less forgive her. Yet I must, or 
 what will become of me ? 
 
 When I put Lady Betty to bed, she put her 
 arms round my neck and whispered in my ear : 
 
 " Please don't be angry, Margaret, but you wont 
 marry Mr. Penrose, will you?" 
 
 " I will marry the man in the moon, and go and 
 live with him upon green cheese, if I hear another 
 word about the matter," said I ; " or I will run 
 away in the first ship to America, paint my face 
 all over red stripes, and wed the king of the 
 Neponsets." 
 
 Betty laughed, and so did I, but my heart hath 
 been heavy enough since. Here is Betty de- 
 prived of one of her greatest pleasures (and she 
 has few enough, poor child), that of hearing her 
 cousin's tales and playing with him, and all mine 
 own ease and comfort spoiled, all because of Lady 
 Jemima's spiteful words for spiteful they were. 
 Ah me ! My day's work is like to be a hard one 
 too hard, I fear, for my strength.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 August 10 
 
 Bishop hatli really come, and I have 
 seen him and heard him preach. He was 
 to arrive yesterday, and for three or four 
 days, Mrs. Judith has been as busy as a 
 bee, making up extra beds, airing rooms, and 
 superintending the cooking of all sorts of nice 
 things. I had myself the honor of making some 
 almond tarts after dear mother's own receipt, 
 which turned out very well. 
 
 Well, the Bishop came at last, and with no such 
 great retinue, either only his necessary servants, 
 his chaplain and secretary. Betty and I peeped 
 out of the window and saw him alight. I think 
 Betty was rather disappointed, for she said 
 gravely : " I should never have taken him for a 
 Bishop. He looks just like any other clergyman, 
 for aught I see." 
 
 My Lady would have me go down to supper, 
 which I had not expected or exactly wished to do, 
 knowing that I should have to sit next Mr. Pen- 
 rose. However, my Lady's least wish is law to 
 
 (191)
 
 192 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 me, so I dressed myself all in my best, and went 
 down. Mr. Penrose, however, sat farther up the 
 table than his old seat, and so I was put next the 
 Bishop's chaplain, a very handsome, modest young 
 man, who hardly opened his lips. His name I 
 believe is Tailor, and the Bishop thinks him a 
 person of much promise. The Bishop sat near 
 the head of the table, at my Lady's right hand. 
 I saw him looking down the table, and as he 
 caught my eye he bowed to me and smiled, yet 
 without speaking at that moment. Mr. Corbet, who 
 sat near me, looked surprised. I have never said 
 anything about my former acquaintance with my 
 Lord to any one but my Lady and Lady Jemima, 
 and I believe the latter thought I made more of 
 the matter than there really was, for she too looked 
 surprised, and then scornful. In a little pause of 
 the conversation, the Bishop said to my Lady : 
 
 "I am glad to meet at your table, a young 
 friend of mine, Mrs. Merton. Mistress Margaret 
 Merton, I hope you are in good health," he added, 
 turning to me. 
 
 I answered as well as I could, though feeling 
 rather embarrassed at having the eyes of all the 
 table turned upon me. He then asked after the 
 health of my mother and brother, and said he 
 would see me again. There is an indescribable 
 charm in his voice and manner. He is wonderfully 
 polished and courtly, yet with no appearance of 
 insincerity, or an effort to please. Even Lady 
 Jemima, who has a fixed prejudice against him,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 193 
 
 and who had come down looking as black and as 
 stiff as one of the clipped yews in the garden, 
 relaxed and became quite gracious under his 
 influence. 
 
 Lady Betty had for some time been begging 
 that she might go to chapel when the Bishop 
 came, and my Lord being in high good humor 
 to-day, I ventured to ask permission. He hesi- 
 tated a little, but finally said : 
 
 " Yes, if she likes. I suppose she will have to 
 show sometime. After all 'tis not her fault, poor 
 little thing, and she may improve with time." 
 
 "She is much improved now," I said, feeling, 
 God forgive me, a kind of disgust for him a 
 father ashamed of his own unfortunate daughter. 
 
 " Do you think she will ever be straight again ?" 
 he asked, eagerly. " I was surprised to see her 
 sit up so well the other day." 
 
 u I do not think her back-bone can ever come 
 straight again," I answered ; " but she grows 
 stronger every day, and the deformity will be less 
 noticeable. I am not sure, but I think she is 
 growing taller also, and your Lordship must allow 
 that she has a beautiful face. She would be 
 observed anywhere." 
 
 " That is true, too," he said. " I noticed it the 
 other day. Well, well, do the best you can for 
 her, Margaret, and let her have her way in this, 
 since her heart is set upon it. It would be natural 
 enough for her to take to religion, wouldn't 
 it?" 
 
 13
 
 194 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 I told liiin I thought it was natural enough for 
 any one, especially any one in affliction. 
 
 " That's because you are a woman," he answer- 
 ed, tapping my cheek, as he does sometimes, but 
 not in any offensive way. I will do my Lord the 
 justice to say, that loud and careless, and hectoring 
 as he often is, he is polite to the point of 
 chivalry to every woman about the house or place, 
 aye, and respectful, too. " Here, wait a moment." 
 
 He turned from me and began searching in his 
 cabinet, and presently brought out a book splen- 
 didly bound in gold and blue velvet, though 
 somewhat faded. 
 
 " Here, give this to Bess, with my love," said he. 
 " It was her grandame's book, given her by the 
 queen that then was, and I have always meant 
 the child to have it. Tell her her father sends 
 it, and bids her be as good as her grandame 
 was." 
 
 I was more pleased than if he had given it to 
 myself, for I knew that such a message and token 
 of remembrance from her father, would make the 
 poor child happy for a week. She worships her 
 father with a devotion which I must say he neither 
 understands nor deserves. 
 
 We looked the book over together, and were 
 delighted to find on the fly-leaf, the bold, plain 
 writing of the great queen herself. It seems Lady 
 Stanton was her god-daughter. 
 
 Well, at the due time, or rather a little before it, 
 Thomas carried my little lady down and sot her
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 195 
 
 in a comfortable corner, and I took my place 
 beside her, as my Lady had told me. 
 
 " Why do you not lake your usual seat, Mrs. 
 Her ton?" asked Lady Jemima, who was placing 
 some flowers on the high altar, as she calls the 
 communion table. 
 
 I told her that my Lady had desired me to sit 
 by Lady Betty. 
 
 " You had better take your usual place," said 
 she. " I will myself sit by Lady Betty, and see 
 that she behaves properly." 
 
 I knew that this would never do in the world. 
 
 " With submission, Lady Jemima, I think it 
 best to obey my Lady's orders," said I, as respect- 
 fully as I knew how. " She will not be pleased if 
 I do not." And to avoid any further words, I 
 took my place directly, and knelt down to say my 
 prayer, so that she could not decently interrupt 
 me. The company came in directly, and, with our 
 own servants, made a good congregation. Lady 
 Betty was as good and reverent as a child could 
 be, only she did not kneel, which was not her 
 fault. 
 
 The Bishop's chaplain read prayers without any 
 of the extravagant gestures of devotion which Mr. 
 Penrose is apt to use, but as my father used to do, 
 and with a voice so full, so musical, and withal so 
 devout and reverent, that it was a pleasure only to 
 listen, and would have been had he read in a 
 foreign tongue. The Bishop spoke a few words of 
 exhortation on a text from the Psalms.
 
 196 Lady Bettys Governess; or> 
 
 When prayers were over, I whispered Lady 
 Betty to sit still till Thomas came for her. As I 
 stood by her, partly screening her from observa- 
 tion, the Bishop drew near. He was talking with 
 my Lady, and at first did not see me, but presently 
 turned round, and smiled as his eye met mine. 
 
 " Will you not present me to your little daugh- 
 ter, madam?" he said to my Lady, who presented 
 Lady Betty, and then me, in due form. He sat 
 down by the child, and spoke kindly to her, asking 
 her if she loved coming to church. 
 
 "I like it very much," answered Betty, who 
 does not know what shyness means. " I never 
 came before, and I asked mamma to let me to- 
 night, because I wished to see you, and hear 
 
 you." 
 
 His Lordship smiled, and said it was a pretty 
 compliment. " But I think you would like to 
 come every day, would you not ?" 
 
 " Yes, when my back does not ache," said Betty; 
 " but I wanted to hear you because Margaret told 
 me about you, and how kind you had been to her 
 and her mother. I love Margaret, and I love 
 everybody that is kind to her." 
 
 " Why, that's well said, my daughter," returned 
 the Bishop. " You do well to love Mistress Mer- 
 ton, who deserves your regard. I doubt not but 
 she is a good governess, for she has been a dutiful 
 daughter, and a kind sister, as I know." 
 
 These praises were very sweet to me, and all 
 the more as Lady Jemima stood by and heard
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 197 
 
 them. She looked very scornful, and presently 
 asked the Bishop, rather pointedly, if he knew my 
 kinswoman, Mistress Felicia Merton. He looked 
 surprised, and said he believed he saw her in 
 church with the family, but that was all. 
 
 " No doubt she was cleverly kept in the back- 
 ground," murmured Lady Jemima, not so low but 
 I heard her, and so did the Bishop also, I am sure, 
 from the way he glanced at her, as he said : 
 
 " My first meeting with Mrs. Merton and her 
 brother was purely accidental and fortuitous. I 
 came across them in the church, and having been 
 uncivil enough to listen to their conversation, was 
 so much interested in it as to desire to improve 
 the acquaintance. I had afterwards some dealings 
 with their mother in the way of business, and now 
 I think of it, I saw a young gentlewoman, whom 
 Mistress Merton presented to me as her husband's 
 sister. If I mistake not, your mother told me she 
 was not going to remain with her." 
 
 I told him no, she had gone to live with an 
 aunt in London, Mrs. Willson by name. 
 
 " What !" said his Lordship ; " not my old ac- 
 quaintance Mrs. Willson, widow of the bookseller 
 and stationer, living near St. Paul's churchyard?" 
 
 I told him my aunt's husband had been a book- 
 seller, and that she had still an interest in the 
 business, and lived I knew near St. Paul's ; and 
 added that she had been very generous, not only 
 to Felicia, but to all the family. 
 
 " I know the good woman well," said the Bish-
 
 198 Lady Bettys Governess, or; 
 
 op, " for good she is in every sense of the word. 
 We must talk over our mutual friends, Mrs. Mer- 
 ton. I will see you again." 
 
 I can see that every one thinks it a great matter 
 that I should receive so much notice from the 
 Bishop. Mrs. Judith would know the whole 
 story, and she will tell good Mistress Pamell, so I 
 shall be illustrated. 
 
 Since I have been out of doors so much with 
 Lady Betty, I have left off my morning walks, but 
 this morning, I know not why, I felt as if one 
 would do me good, so I took my hood, and went 
 out into the chase. The morning was fine, and 
 everything was pleasant, but I felt I know not 
 what, of heaviness and discouragement. 
 
 " Sure 'tis very hard to have such an enemy as 
 Lady Jemima, and that for no fault of mine own 
 that I know of," I thought. It is Felicia's doing, 
 to begin with, but she has no right to judge me 
 on such slight evidence, nor to treat me as she 
 does. Every time I try to set matters straight be- 
 tween us, I only make them worse. I have no one 
 of whom I can ask advice either, now that Doctor 
 Parnell is dead, and Mr. Penrose has raised up 
 such a bar between us. If only I could see Mrs. 
 Corbet alone, she might help me ; but then she is 
 one of the family, and it might only make trouble. 
 
 As I was thinking thus, walking with mine eyes 
 on the ground, I almost ran against somebody 
 coming in the opposite direction, and looking up, 
 I saw the Bishop before me.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 199 
 
 " Why, this is well," said he, with his kindly 
 smile. " So you too love the early morning. But 
 methinks your roses are not as blooming as 
 when we met before. I trust all is well with 
 you?" 
 
 I told him that I was quite well in health, and 
 that my Lady was very kind to me, and I thought 
 I had satisfied her so far. 
 
 " But," said he, smiling, and then seemed to be 
 waiting for me to say more ; then, as I did not, he 
 continued himself : 
 
 " But you have found, I suppose, that things do 
 not go on without rubs in courts and castles, more 
 than in rectories and cottages ?" 
 
 " I suppose there must be rubs everywhere," 
 said I. " ' 'Tis all in the day's work.' " 
 
 " Not of course," said my Lord. " We make a 
 good many rubs for ourselves, which do not come 
 into our day's work at all." 
 
 " I don't really know that I have made any of 
 my rubs for myself," said I, considering a little, 
 " unless it was about " and then I stopped, and 
 felt my face grow scarlet, for I was just going to 
 speak of Mr. Penrose. 
 
 " Well," said the Bishop, as I paused " except 
 what? Except in tempting poor Mr. Penrose 
 away from his vocation, as they say abroad among 
 the Papists. Truly that was no great sin. They 
 talk about arguments for and against the celibacy 
 of the clergy," he added, more to himself than to 
 me. " Truly, I have ever found the meeting and
 
 2OO Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 acquaintance of a comely maiden, better than any 
 logic in that matter." 
 
 "How did you know?" I asked, in utter amaze- 
 ment, forgetting, I am afraid, the respect due to 
 his Lordship. 
 
 Oh, a little bird told me. But now I must tell 
 you all, or you will be fancying more than there 
 is. Sit you down, if you have a little time. I 
 should like to talk with you about that and other 
 matters." 
 
 We sat down together on a rude seat which 
 stood well sheltered by a thicket of holly, and he 
 went on talking as he might have done to his own 
 daughter. 
 
 " My Lord told me last night that Mr. Penrose 
 was looking for a wife, and Lady Jemima said he 
 had not looked very far, or very high, or some such 
 phrase. Then Mr. Tailor asked my opinion 
 about priests marrying." He paused, and I sup- 
 pose I looked curious. 
 
 "And 'what then,' you are looking," he said, 
 with a laugh which it did me good to hear, it was 
 so clear and genial, yet with nothing coarse or 
 rude about it. " Marry then, I told my young 
 friend that if what was sauce for the goose was 
 sauce for the gander, as our old saw hath it, I 
 thought the dressing that did for the bishop might 
 suit the curate well enough, and that I hoped to 
 see each of them fitted with as good a wife as I 
 had myself. Then I am betraying no confi- 
 dence in this matter, sweetheart, for I told Mr.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 201 
 
 Penrose that I should speak to you about the mat- 
 ter Mr. Penrose came to me in private, and told 
 me that lie had asked you to be his wife, but you 
 had put him off for a year, on account of a pro- 
 mise you had made my Lady; but my Lady was 
 willing to let you off your promise in such a case, 
 and my Lord was also favorable, and he begged 
 my good offices with you. There, you have the 
 whole story." 
 
 " My Lord," said I, " Mr. Penrose is under 
 some strange mistake. I never said or hinted 
 that I would marry him at the end of the year, or 
 at any other time." 
 
 "Understand me! He did not say positively 
 that you did so promise," said his Lordship. 
 " He only told me that you had put him off till 
 that time before he should speak again. He told 
 me that you had behaved most honorably with 
 him, with a great deal to your praise, which I need 
 not repeat, and then, with a great deal of humility, 
 he did ask me, if I thought right, to speak with 
 you on the matter. So now I have f ullfilled my 
 word in so speaking ; and what do you say 
 thereto ?" 
 
 "Only what I have said before, my Lord," I 
 answered, trying to speak calmly. "Mr. Penrose 
 is a good young gentleman, and I know the match 
 to be far above my deserts ; but I can never 
 marry him, if ho waited ten years instead of one." 
 
 " But your mind may change in a year," said my 
 Lord.
 
 2O2 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 " I do not believe it will, and I do not want it to 
 change," I answered. " I knoio I shall never want 
 to marry him." 
 
 "But why?" asked the Bishop. 
 
 "Because," I answered, "I know how I feel 
 now. I like Mr. Penrose very well as a friend and 
 neighbor ; but the minute I think of marrying him, 
 I perfectly hate him, and feel as though I would 
 walk to the Land's End to get out of hearing of 
 his name." 
 
 " That would be going out of the river into the 
 sea," said the Bishop, laughing again at my vehe- 
 mence. "You would meet with plenty of Pen- 
 roses between here and the Land's End. Ah, 
 well ! I see my poor chaplain's cake is dough, 
 and though I like him well, I would not have it 
 otherwise, so long as you feel so. I would not 
 have you marry for interest, my maiden. Wedded 
 life is a lovely and a holy thing where love is, but 
 where it is not, there is confusion and every evil 
 work. And then, you are but young to settle in 
 life. I am sorry for Mr. Penrose, though. He is 
 a good young man." 
 
 "Indeed he is!" I answered, warmly. "And 
 that made me so sorry to have this come up, be- 
 cause I liked him so well; and now we can be 
 naught but strangers. I wish he would fall in lovo 
 with somebody else." 
 
 " Tis not unlikely your wish may be gratified !" 
 said my Lord, dryly ; " but let him pass for the 
 present. My Lady tells me that your little pupil
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 203 
 
 has improved wonderfully under your hands, and 
 that she is much pleased with your management." 
 
 "I am very glad," I answered. "My Lady 
 does me more than justice. I do not think that 
 Lady Betty has learned so very much, but her 
 health has improved, and with it her spirits and 
 temper. She is so bright, 'tis but a pleasure to 
 teach her." 
 
 " And now for yourself," said the Bishop, with 
 a penetrating, but kindly look. " How have you 
 fared ? Do you remember the promise I exacted 
 from you that day in the church ?" 
 
 I told him that I had never forgotten it, and 
 that I believed I had kept it every day ; and added 
 that I had read half through the volume he gave 
 me. 
 
 "That is well!" said he, seeming pleased. 
 " And have you not found these things a help to 
 you?" 
 
 " They have been a help," said I ; " and also a 
 comfort ; but I know not how it is, I seem to gain 
 no ground, or what I gain one day I lose the next. 
 I have tried to be good, indeed I have!" I con- 
 tinued, feeling the tears very near my eyes, but 
 determined, if I could, to keep them back ; " but I 
 do not succeed, and I sometimes fear that I shall 
 never reach heaven at last. "When I first camo 
 here, Lady Jemima was very kind to me; and 
 gave me rules about devotions and fasting, and so 
 on ; but I cannot keep to them because my time is 
 not my own, nor my strength either, and my Lady
 
 2O4 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 was not pleased when I gave up my hour of recre- 
 ation to sew on Lady Jemima's work for the poor. 
 Then I am conscious of so many failings every day 
 that I am afraid " I had to stop here and look 
 very steadfastly through the tears. 
 
 "I understand," said the Bishop. "My dear 
 maiden, do you not see wherein your trouble lies ? 
 You have undertaken something which is not in 
 your day's work at all, and which therefore is too 
 much for your strength. You are trying to pur- 
 chase eternal life by your own works and deserv- 
 ings, whereas it has already been bought for you, 
 and the whole price paid by another, so that to 
 you it is offered as a free gift. The gift of God 
 observe, daughter, the gift of God is eternal life, 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 
 I looked at him, but I could not speak such a 
 light seemed ah 1 at once to flash upon me. He 
 went on. I cannot tell all he said ; only he made 
 it plain to me from many places of Scripture, that 
 nothing we could do, could save ourselves. That 
 God had appointed another way, easy and plain, 
 namely, faith in His dear Son, whom He had sent 
 to die for our sins and to rise for our justification. 
 That He, by His one oblation of Himself, once 
 offered, had made a full, sufficient, and perfect 
 atonement and satisfaction for the sins of the 
 whole world, and that I should make that atone- 
 ment mine, and receive all its benefits, the moment 
 I should come to Him in faith and humility, giving
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 2o5 
 
 myself to Him, and asking God for His sake to 
 receive me. 
 
 " But what becomes of good works ?" I asked. 
 
 " They are of the utmost value !" he replied. 
 ''They show our sincerity to ourselves and to the 
 world, for one thing ; and they are a part of the 
 work our Heavenly Father has given us to do ; not 
 as task-work to slaves, to be sharply exacted and 
 grudgingly paid, but as work laid out for good and 
 loving children, that they may both improve them- 
 selves thereby, and also help on His plans for the 
 good of all. Tell me, sweetheart, which is best to 
 make garments for an old woman because she is in 
 need and because she is one of God's creatures 
 whom He loves, or because clothing the poor is 
 one of the corporal works of mercy, and you are 
 laying up just so much merit thereby ?" 
 
 "The first, of course," I answered. "'Love 
 makes easy service,' dear mother used to say. 
 But, my Lord, you say that I have only to believe 
 that this sacrifice was made for me that I have 
 but to believe and be saved." 
 
 " Well," he said, kindly. 
 
 " Then I may know that I am saved now be- 
 cause I can certainly know that I believe now, as 
 well as I can know anything." 
 
 "Well, why not?" he repeated. "Is not the 
 knowledge pleasant to feel that you are the 
 beloved child of God, and an heir to everlasting 
 life?" 
 
 " So pleasant," I replied, " that I see not what
 
 206 Lady Bettys Governess, or ; 
 
 becomes of Mr. Penrose's saying that it behoves 
 us to walk softly and mournfully all our days, in 
 the bitterness of our souls. It seems to me that 
 *here is no room for it." 
 
 " Ah, my dear maiden," said the Bishop, smil- 
 ing somewhat sadly, " we shall have sorrow 
 enough, never fear quite as much as is good for 
 us, without seeking or making any. I wonder if 
 Mr. Penrose ever thought that with all the com- 
 mands to rejoice, to be exceeding glad, to rejoice 
 evermore, and so on, there is not one single direct 
 command to mourn, in the New Testament. I 
 would have you go on your way rejoicing. I 
 would have you gather every flower which your 
 Father plants in your path, and take delight in 
 every innocent pleasure, because 'tis a gift from 
 His hand. And even when trouble comes, as 
 come it does to all, I would have you rejoice be- 
 cause you are in the hand of One who never 
 afflicts willingly, and who is bound, by all His at- 
 tributes, to bring you safely through." 
 
 Much more he said, but this is what I remem- 
 ber best what I am sure I shall never forget as 
 long as I live. I have felt all day as though a 
 great burden which I had been trying to carry, 
 but which was beyond my strength, had been 
 suddenly lifted off, and I had been told to go on 
 my way without it. 
 
 "When I came in, my Lady asked me if I had 
 heard any good news, that my face was so bright. 
 
 The Bishop preached for us in the chapel this
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 207 
 
 evening. There was a great congregation all the 
 Eultons, and many other neighboring gentry, be- 
 sides Mrs. Corbet and her son, all of whom were 
 entertained at supper afterward. Lady Betty sat 
 in her corner, only somewhat more out of sight 
 than before, and I by her. The Bishop's text was 
 out of the third of St. John's Gospel " Whoso 
 believeth on Him shall not perish, but have ever- 
 lasting life." I shall never forget it while I live 
 so clear and plain was it, so full of beauty, and de- 
 livered with such eloquence, yet so expressed as 
 that the youngest and simplest person present 
 could take in somewhat of the doctrine. 
 
 I saw many looks exchanged, mostly of approval, 
 though Lady Jemima was evidently ill-pleased, 
 and I thought Mr. Penrose somewhat dubious. 
 As for my Lord, he slept through most of it, as he 
 does at all sermons. 
 
 I did not go to the supper table, but Lady 
 Betty and I supped sumptuously in Mrs. Judith's 
 room afterward a great delight to the child, to 
 whom every change is a treat. Mrs. Corbet came in 
 to speak to her, and spent an hour with us talking 
 about the sermon, which, she said, had made her 
 young again. Mr. Corbet was here, but I did not 
 see him, save for a moment, as he came to speak 
 to me in the chapel. Poor Mr. Penrose looks very 
 pale and downcast, but did give me a very kindly 
 greeting, and a message from Mistress Parnell, 
 whom he has begged to remain in the rectory and 
 Keep hi.s house for him.
 
 2o8 Lady Betty's Governess, or ; 
 
 "I thought you would have one of your sisters," 
 said I, when he told me this bit of news. 
 
 "Perhaps I shall, by-and-by," he answered; 
 " but they find enough to do at home, and it seems 
 a pity Mistress Parnell should leave the roof 
 which hath sheltered her so long. So I have even 
 begged her to stay, and she hath consented to do 
 so, instead of going to her niece at Bristol. Will 
 you not come and see her sometimes ?" 
 
 Then, as I hesitated, he added, "Believe me, 
 Margaret, I will annoy you with no more impor- 
 tunities. I see that there is no use in it, and I will 
 spare myself the humiliation and you the pain, of 
 asking what can never be given." 
 
 He spoke with much kindness, but with dignity, 
 and without a tinge of pique or offence ; and then 
 added, smiling somewhat sadly, " You know you 
 are to be Aunt Margaret by-and-by, so you had 
 best begin on Mistress Parnell." 
 
 " Oh, I shall come," said I. I never was so near 
 liking him as at that last minute. If it were not 
 but there it is. Nobody knows or guesses there 
 is one comfort. O yes I there are a great many 
 comforts. What a long story I have made of the 
 matter ! 
 
 August 15. 
 
 The good Bishop has gone, but I might say that 
 his spirit abides with us still, everything seems to 
 go on so pleasantly and peacefully. My Lord 
 has been away for a few days, but is to return to-
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 209 
 
 morrow. My Lady keeps her room a good deal, 
 looking over papers, &c., and has spent more 
 than her usual time in the nursery, to the delight 
 of both Betty and myself. This morning she 
 brought me a letter from Aunt TVillson, which 
 came in one to herself. She showed me the last. 
 It is short, and to the purpose, saying much that is 
 kind of me and mine, and thanking her Ladyship 
 for her goodness to me. Her note to me was the 
 same, only adding, at the end, that she hoped I 
 should have no more trouble made by the schemes 
 of one that should be nameless. 
 
 Only Lady Jemima will not be pacified toward 
 me. She stopped me in the garden the other day, 
 and told me she had had a letter from Felicia, 
 who sent me her forgiveness for the ill offices 
 I had been trying to do her, but which had failed ; 
 as she hoped, for my own sake, all my plans of 
 that sort might do. 
 
 " So do I," said I. " If I ever make any plans 
 for mischief, I trust they will fail. As yet I have 
 made none, nor done any one ill offices. Whether 
 any one has done them for me, is quite another 
 matter." 
 
 " Beware !" said she, solemnly. " You are so set 
 up with pride, because of the Bishop's ill-judged 
 notice of you, and because my Lady takes your 
 part, that you can see no danger ; but beware ! 
 There is One that sees and judges." 
 
 " I rejoice to think there is, and to Him I 
 commit myself and my cause." And with that I 
 
 14
 
 2io Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 left her. It is strange how prejudiced she hath 
 become. 
 
 Mr. Corbet rarely joins Betty in her walks and 
 rides now, and the poor child is very much grieved, 
 and thinks cousin "Walter has grown strangely 
 remiss. I fancy some one my Lady, perhaps 
 has spoken to him. It is just as well. I only 
 wish he had not begun it. And yet I don't know 
 that I do, either. 
 
 August 17. 
 
 I said the last time I wrote that things were 
 going on pleasantly ; but since then we have had 
 a grand explosion, the effects of which are felt 
 even yet. It came about in this wise. 
 
 My Lord came home the day before yesterday, 
 bringing with him a guest Lord Saville, a court 
 gallant, and I know not what relative of my Lady's. 
 Never was anything so fine as this gallant, with 
 his satin trunks and hose, his shoes with roses of 
 gold lace and brilliants, his jewelled hatband, and 
 I know not what else of bravery in the gayest 
 colors nay, I verily believe he painted his face, 
 at least his eyebrows. For my part I cannot 
 tbink so much finery becoming a man. Mr. 
 Corbet, in his plain dark cloth and trimmed hair, 
 looks ten times the gentleman that this lovelocked 
 and perfumed court popinjay does. 
 
 Well, he was at the supper-table, of course, and 
 Mr. Corbet and Mr. Penrose also. One of Sir 
 Thomas Fulton's daughters is here visiting Lady
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 211 
 
 Jemima, and she was the only lady guest. It fell 
 out that my Lord began speaking of Mr. Prynne, 
 and of Lilburne, and now for the first time I heard 
 of the barbarous sentence the branding and 
 cropping of the former gentleman for a gentle- 
 man he is, and of as good blood as my Lord him- 
 self. My Lord swore with many oaths, as his way 
 is, that the canting beggar was rightly served, and 
 he would like to see them all served with the same 
 sauce. 
 
 "It would be a great dish that should hold 
 them," said Mr. Corbet, dryly ; " and would need 
 to be made very strong." 
 
 " You are right, sir," said Lord Saville. " The 
 faction increases wonderfully, in spite of the 
 Archbishop, who is a jolly Churchman. They say 
 that Mr. Prynne received wonderful tokens of 
 kindness and sympathy on his way to prison, and 
 that money was showered on his wife, but she 
 would not take it. Marry, that is the wonderful 
 part of the tale." 
 
 They should all be served alike, my Lord swore, 
 and said he would like to hear one of his house- 
 hold or dependents say a word in favor of the 
 sour, vinegar-faced hypocrite or his abettors. My 
 Lady looked at me, and I read in her glance what 
 would have kept me quiet but for Lady Jemima's 
 interference. She saw my disturbed countenance, 
 as she sees everything, and said, in her most 
 sarcastic tone : 
 
 " Mrs. Merton, you need not look so distressed.
 
 212 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 I dare say my brother will make an exception in 
 your favor, if you are desirous of pleading the 
 cause of your kinsman." 
 
 How she knew Mr. Prynne was my kinsman I 
 cannot guess, unless Felicia told her. 
 
 All eyes were turned on me at once. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed my Lord. " That canting 
 scoundrel Margaret's kinsman ! I do not believe it ! 
 Speak up, Margaret, and deny it ; or say, at the 
 least, that you do not take the part of such an 
 execrable villain. Say that he hath had his 
 deserts, or at least some small part of them, and I 
 shall be content. Speak out!" he cried, seeing 
 that I hesitated, and smiting the table with his fist 
 till the dishes rang. 
 
 "Since I must needs speak, then, my Lord," 
 said I, "Mr. Prynne is my kinsman, and hath often 
 been at our house in my father's life-time; and 
 then I am sure he was an honest gentleman, 
 though somewhat sour and austere. What he has 
 now done, I know not, save that he hath printed a 
 book inveighing against stage plays ; but sure it 
 must have been a greater crime than that to merit 
 so barbarous a sentence." 
 
 "Barbarous! Do you say barbarous?" ex- 
 claimed my Lord, in tones that trembled with pas- 
 sion, while Lord Saville looked on with an expres- 
 sion of contemptuous amusement. 
 
 "I did say so, my Lord," I answered, for my 
 own spirit was up by this time. " Branding and 
 cropping do seem to me barbarous puuisliments,
 
 77/6' Corbet Chronicles. 213 
 
 and unworthy a Christian age : and I cannot 
 understand how a Christian prelate could sit by 
 when such sentence was given, and not protest 
 against it." 
 
 " He was so far from protesting, that he was 
 the very head and front of the matter," said Mr. 
 Corbet. 
 
 "And am I to hear this?" said my Lord, fairly 
 glaring at me. "Elizabeth, do you hear this 
 this chit brave me at mine own board?" 
 
 " Margaret said nothing till she was pressed," 
 answered my Lady, more loftily than her wont. 
 
 " And you dare to take the part of this fellow !" 
 said my Lord to me. 
 
 " How can you be surprised, brother ?" asked 
 Lady Jemima, scornfully. "'Birds of a feather 
 flock together,' you know." 
 
 "But you don't mean it, Margaret," said my 
 Lord : " you do not mean to take the part of this 
 crop-eared scoundrel and own him for jour kins- 
 man ? You don't mean to say " 
 
 " I did not mean to say anything, my Lord, and 
 should not, unless it had been forced upon me," 
 said I, as he paused for breath, and seemed 
 to expect some answer ; " but what I have said, I 
 cannot unsay. Mr. Prynne is my kinsman, and 
 he has been kind to my mother since my father's 
 death. What ill he may have done I cannot say, 
 but if it is no more than writing a book against 
 plays and play-houses, I must say that the 
 sentence seems to me a verv severe and barbarous
 
 2 1 4 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 one, and most unworthy of a Christian prelate." 
 I said this, I am conscious, with some emphasis 
 and heat, for it seemed to me that I was being 
 very unfairly treated both by my Lord and Lady 
 Jemima, and it did not make me any cooler to see 
 that Lord Saville was amusing himself with the 
 whole affair. But here I received support, though 
 I can hardly say assistance, from a very unexpected 
 quarter. 
 
 "I am with you, Mistress Merton, said Mr. 
 Penrose (who had hitherto been quite silent), in 
 his clear, precise voice. " I have always hitherto 
 loved and revered the Archbishop, but I cannot 
 approve his course in this matter. It seems to me 
 far worse than the homicide for which Archbishop 
 Abbot was deprived. I have seen Mr. Prynne's 
 book. I have also seen two or three plays, when I 
 was last in London :" (and withal he blushed like 
 a girl,) " and though I like not at all Mr. Prynne's 
 spirit, and believe him to be guilty of dangerous 
 errors in doctrine, I think what he says of the 
 practises of plays and players too well deserved. 
 I am ashamed when I remember the play which I 
 saw played before the king." 
 
 " And what was that play, Mr. Chaplain, an 
 it like you ?" asked my Lord Saville. 
 
 " It was called, if I mistake not, * The Game- 
 ster,' " answered Mr. Penrose. 
 
 " I would have you to know, sir, that the plot of 
 that play was furnished to Mr. Shirley the poet by 
 his Majesty's own hands," said Lord Saville,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 2i5 
 
 arrogantly, and as if to bear down all before him : 
 " I myself heard the king say it was the best play 
 he had seen in seven years." 
 
 " So much the worse," said Mr. Penrose, shortly. 
 "I could not have believed it of his Majesty." 
 
 With that my Lord exploded in a new fury. 
 He put no bounds to his language, but called Mr. 
 Penrose all the opprobrious epithets he could 
 muster, and reproached him with the benefits 
 which had been bestowed upon him in language 
 which I am sure he would not have dared to 
 bestow upon an equal. It was enough to make 
 one ashamed of ever having been in a passion, to 
 see what a pitiful spectacle this man made of 
 himself. Mr. Penrose sat quite still till my Lord 
 paused, from sheer inability to say another word. 
 Then he said, rising from the table, as he spoke : 
 
 "My Lord, it has been your pleasure to 
 insult at your own table, and before your ser- 
 vants, a gentleman whose birth is as good as 
 your own, and whose family was known and 
 distinguished, when yours was still in obscurity. 
 My profession, if nothing else, forbids me to 
 demand of you the satisfaction which one gentle- 
 man owes to another in such a case. I am your 
 debtor, 'tis true, but I am also a gentleman, and a 
 clergyman of the Church of England, and as such 
 entitled to speak my mind. I return upon your 
 hands the benefits with which you reproach me, 
 and which you have rendered more bitter than 
 gall, by your insults. I will be no man's lackey,
 
 216 Lady Betty's Governess, or; 
 
 though I be forced to drudge for my daily bread 
 like any plowman. I here resign both the chap- 
 laincy and the benefice which you have given me, 
 thanking you for any courtesy you have shown 
 me hitherto." And with that he rose from the 
 table, bowed to my Lady and the rest, and took 
 his hat to leave the room. 
 
 " I will walk with you, Mr. Penrose," said Mr. 
 Corbet, also rising. " Give you good-night, fair 
 ladies." And they left the hall. 
 
 I could not have believed it was in the little 
 man to look and speak as he did, with so much 
 calmness and dignity. Even the allusion to his 
 own family (which, he being a Cornishman, is, 
 of course, a good deal older than Adam), sat 
 gracefully enough upon him. My Lord was actu- 
 ally silenced, and had the grace to look ashamed. 
 My Lady prevented any more words by rising 
 from the table, and of course all of us did the 
 same. As we passed out of the hall, I heard Lady 
 Jemima say to my Lady : 
 
 " Well, Sister Elizabeth, what think you of the 
 storm your immaculate Mrs. Mertou has raised ? 
 Is she not a fit person to have charge of your 
 daughter's education ?" 
 
 She spoke in the tone of sarcastic contempt, 
 which she always uses to or about me. Mj- Lady 
 answered more sharply than I ever heard her 
 speak : 
 
 " It was j-ourself, Jemima, who raised the storm, 
 as most stoims in this house are raised, by your
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 217 
 
 impertinent meddling. Margaret would not have 
 spoken but for your drawing my Lord's attention 
 upon her." 
 
 " Oh, of course, it was all my fault," Lady 
 Jemima began, but my Lady interrupted her : 
 
 " It was all your fault ! You are constantly 
 tormenting the child for no other reason than 
 because she dares to have a mind of her own. 
 But I have had enough of it ; and have long borne 
 with your impertinent interference in household 
 affairs, your contradicting of my orders, upsetting 
 my arrangements, and taking the words out of my 
 mouth at mine own table : but I will have it no 
 longer. The next time you make such a piece of 
 mischief you leave the house, or I do !" 
 
 "Well, I must say !" Lady Jemima began, but 
 my Lady cut her short : 
 
 "I will hear no more !" said she, sharply. "I 
 am wearied and fretted to death now. Margaret, 
 why do you not go to the nursery ?" 
 
 I might have said that I was only waiting for her 
 to give me room to pass ; but I saw well that my 
 Lady was driven past her patience, and no won- 
 der : so I courtesied and made my escape by the 
 way of Mrs. Judith's room. 
 
 I did not know what to do, for my Lord had 
 bid me quit the house the next day, and I had 
 nowhere to go. I had money enough owing me to 
 take me home, but I knew not how to get there, 
 and I had no friend to whom I could appl} r , unless 
 it were tho Bishop. I could hardly calm myself
 
 218 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 to think of anything for a time ; but at last, by 
 dint of walking in the gallery, which I did for an 
 hour, and by schooling myself to do my usual 
 reading, I found myself in a condition to consider 
 matters quietly. I never felt any more unhappy 
 in my life, and regretted twenty times that I had 
 not stayed in the nursery with my child; but there 
 was no use in that. Besides the disgrace which 
 had been put upon me, and the triumph Avhich 
 that disgrace would afford to mine enemies, my 
 heart was broken at the thought that I must leave 
 my child to a stranger, just at the time when she 
 was like to need me most, and have all my work 
 for her undone. Lady Jemima is mine enemy, 
 though I know she would not own herself so. She 
 persecutes me, as my Lady says, because I think 
 for myself instead of following her. As for my 
 Lord, I care not so much for him. 
 
 "Well, I could do nothing that night so much 
 was plain and the next day might bring cooler 
 councils. So I looked in upon my child, as I 
 usually do the last thing, and then said my prayers. 
 I know not whether I did entirely forgive Lady 
 Jemima, but I know I tried faithfully to do so. I 
 confess I cried myself to sleep, but I did go to 
 sleep at last, and slept well, with sweet dreams of 
 walking in pleasant green fields, in good company. 
 Methought that a deep river seemed to divide us 
 for a time, which I could not cross because of the 
 child who was with me ; but at last, I know not 
 how, my Lady brought us together again, and
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 219 
 
 then, taking Betty by her Land, slie smiled lovingly 
 upon us and seemed to float away. I awoke not a 
 little comforted, though 'twas but a dream. 
 
 I thought I would do nothing good or bad till I 
 saw my Lady, so I dressed Lady Betty, as usual, 
 (though she has learned to help herself a great 
 deal,) heard her say her prayers, and gave her her 
 breakfast. I then went to my room for my work- 
 basket, where I met my Lady. She looked pale 
 and tired, but greeted me kindly, as usual, and 
 asked me some questions about Betty's lessons. I 
 answered her, and added that I had thought it 
 best to go on as usual till I saw her and received 
 her commands. 
 
 "You have said nothing to Betty, I hope?" 
 said my Lady. I told her I had not. 
 
 "That is well!" said she. "Margaret, have 
 you the patience to let matters stand as they are 
 for a few days, and do nothing ?" 
 
 " Surely, my Lady, if you desire it," I answered. 
 " I would do more than that for you." 
 
 " I know I ask a good deal," she continued. 
 " I know the position is a painful one, but I hope 
 things may be mended." 
 
 " My Lady," said I, thinking it was time for me 
 to speak, " I can bear all things for your sake and 
 for Lady Betty's. I have been turning the matter 
 over in my own mind I mean what chanced last 
 night and truly I see not what I could have done 
 differently from that I did. Mr. Prynne is my 
 kinsman, and, as I said, he has been kind to us;
 
 22O Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 and had my dear father taken his advice, it would 
 have fared the better with us at this time. I 
 would not have spoken unless I had been called 
 upon, but being so called upon, it does seem to 
 me that I should have been base and ungrateful 
 not to speak up for my cousin." 
 
 My Lady sighed. " I know, Margaret. I do not 
 blame you. I know my Lord was somewhat hot 
 and hasty, and he was provoked with Mr. Penroso 
 for his uncalled-for words." 
 
 Somewhat hot and hasty, indeed ! But he is 
 her husband, and, as I once heard dear father say, 
 a woman must be somewhat more than an angel 
 to be just where her husband is concerned. 
 
 " But rest you quiet, sweetheart !" continued my 
 Lady. " Let the storm go by ! At the worst, I 
 will see that you are taken good care of, but I 
 trust not to lose you. It will be my great comfort, 
 under my approaching trial, to know that Betty is 
 in such good hands." 
 
 After such words from my Lady, I could not 
 doubt what my duty was. So I said I would go 
 on just as usual, only praying her leave to absent 
 myself from table, which she granted, saying that 
 Betty and I might dine either by ourselves or with 
 Mrs. Judith. I knew Betty would choose the 
 latter, and said so ; whereat she bade me inform 
 Mrs. Judith of the arrangement. I went to her 
 room for the purpose, and found her busy blanch- 
 ing and shredding almonds, stoning dates and 
 raisins, and so forth, for the dinner. She would
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 221 
 
 not let me stay to help her, however, as I would 
 have done, but saying that I looked pale, and the 
 fresh air would do me good, she filled my pocket 
 with spiced comfits and sent me away to walk. 
 
 The day has passed quietly enough. I havo 
 been careful to keep out of my Lord's way, and 
 also to keep Lady Betty out of his sight, for 'tis 
 the way of grand and magnanimous natures like 
 his to revenge their humors on little and weak 
 creatures. Marry, they now and then find them- 
 selves mistaken, as my Lord did with Mr. Penrose 
 last night. How grand and dignified the little 
 man was ! My Lord has gotten himself into a 
 scrape there, and I am wicked enough to be glad 
 of it. It seems that the presentation to the living 
 belongs to both houses in such wise that my Lord 
 has it one time and Mr. Corbet the next ; so by 
 Mr. Penrose's resignation last night the next 
 presentation is Mr. Corbet's. I do hope he will 
 reinstate Mr. Penrose, and I think he will, for he 
 was clearly pleased last night. 
 
 August 20. 
 
 Things still go on quietly enough in the family. 
 My Lord has said nothing to me, good or bad, but 
 I fancy he hath made some sort of apology to Mr. 
 Penrose, from something I saw passing between 
 them in the garden this morning, and from the 
 fact that Mr. Penrose read prayers in the chapel 
 this evening. He made a short but earnest lecture 
 on the text, " The temple of God is holy, which
 
 222 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 temple ye are;" and spoke most forcibly and 
 beautifully on the point of purity, not only of life 
 but of mind, carrying out the figure, and likeuiug 
 the man who entertained unclean and impure 
 thoughts in his mind, to one who should feast 
 boon companions in the sanctuary of the church, 
 and make the sacred vessels themselves the in- 
 struments of his debauchery. 
 
 Methought my Lord looked a little uneasy, but 
 Lord Saville kept his usual sneering composure. 
 The latter gallant favored me with a low rever- 
 ence I suppose in the usual Court mode ; but I 
 would not so much as let him know that I saw 
 him. His very look is an insult. I made my 
 reverence to Lady Jemima, in passing, but did not 
 speak to her, nor she to me. I have tried hard to 
 forgive her, and I hope I have done so, in some 
 measure, for I would not, as Mr. Penrose would 
 say, bring sword and dagger into God's sanc- 
 tuary. 
 
 I thought of the sermon all the evening. Surely 
 if a very awful, 'tis also a marvellous comforting 
 thought that abiding of the Spirit in our hearts ! 
 
 Mistress Parnell walked up with Mr. Penrose, 
 and was loud in his praises afterwards, when we 
 were at supper together in Mrs. Judith's room ; 
 saying, with tears, that he was like a son or 
 younger brother to her, constantly seeking what 
 he may do to please her, and studying her comfort 
 in every way. . 
 
 "All, Margaret, Margaret!" said the old lady,
 
 T/ie Corbel Chronicles. 223 
 
 " I doubt you are throwing away what can never 
 be gotten back again." 
 
 " I don't know but I am ; but there is no help 
 for it. If I had never seen anybody else but 
 that if is as wide as the ocean. There is no ship 
 to cross it. 
 
 Betty, dear child, is as good and loving as a 
 child can be. She has taken double pains with 
 her learning of late, and makes wonderful progress. 
 This day, after sitting long and silent over her 
 sewing she is making an apron for Goody Teo 
 she said to me : 
 
 " Margaret, you know Latin, don't you ?" 
 
 I told her I did know some Latin, and one day 
 I would read her some pretty tales out of Virgil, 
 his Enead. 
 
 "Will you teach me Latin?" she asked, wistfully. 
 
 " That must be as my Lady says," I answered ; 
 " but, my love, why do you wish to learn Latin ?" 
 
 " Because," said she, " My little brother will 
 have to learn it some day, I suppose, and if I know 
 it, I can teach it to him." 
 
 " Suppose your little brother should turn out a 
 little sister ?" said I, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, but I hope he will not !" she answered ; 
 " you know papa likes boys best !" 
 
 Betty rarely shows a spark of her old heat or 
 perversencss, and if she does, it makes her very 
 unhappy, and she will not rest until she has asked 
 and received forgiveness. I sometimes think her 
 character is ripening too fast, and thai such deep
 
 224 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 feelings in a child forebode an early death ; and 
 yet, why should I say fear ? 'Twould be a blessed 
 thing for her. Her life is not like to be a happy 
 one. 
 
 August 21. 
 
 Another explosion, and by my means, though 
 not by my fault. I only wish all the consequences 
 had fallen on myself. I should find it easier to 
 forgive the author than I do now. 
 
 It chanced on this wise. I have kept Betty out 
 of the way as much as possible, but the morning 
 was so fine that I could not resist her entreaties 
 for a ride, and we went as far as the Abbey ruin, 
 which Betty has always wished to see, and which, 
 from its stillness and loneliness, hath been a favor- 
 ite haunt of mine own. I had no thought of meet- 
 ing any one, for none of the family ever came 
 thither ; so we let the donkey graze at his will 
 while we wandered about and spelled out the in- 
 scriptions on the stones, I translating the Latin for 
 Lady Betty's benefit. There was no danger of 
 Jack's straying far, for he loves Betty with all the 
 force of his donkeyish nature, and will come pranc- 
 ing and flinging in most ludicrous sort to meet 
 her, whenever she comes near. 
 
 Well, as I said, we were spelling out the inscrip- 
 tions, and Betty was much interested in the tomb 
 of Abbot Ignatius, when we heard my Lord's voice, 
 and presently he and Lord Saville came from 
 behind the wall of the rained refectory. Now,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 226 
 
 Betty loves her father's very shadow, and before I 
 could hinder her, she had run to meet him, with a 
 cry of delight. 
 
 " Hallo !" exclaimed my Lord Saville. " What 
 little mundrake have we here ? Are your grounds 
 haunted with dwarfs and pixies, my Lord?" 
 
 My Lord's brow turned black as thunder. 
 
 " This is my daughter, my Lord !" said he, in a 
 lofty tone : but Lord Saville was by no means 
 overawed. 
 
 " I crave your pardon ! : ' said he, carelessly : " I 
 knew you had a daughter, but I thought her to 
 have died long since ;" and with that he turned 
 away. 
 
 "What are you doing here, Bess?" asked my 
 Lord, harshly. 
 
 "I I only came I don't know!" answered 
 Betty, flushing and stammering, as she is apt to 
 do when startled. 
 
 " Mrs. Merton, since you pretend to hare the 
 government of the child, methinks you might at 
 least keep her out of sight !" said my Lord, turn- 
 ing the vials of his wrath on me. " 'Tis surely 
 misfortune enough to be the father of such a 
 changeling, without having her paraded to shame 
 me at every turn ! I think the devil himself served 
 her alive, to vex me. I would she had died at her 
 birth, like her brothers yonder," ho added, mutter- 
 ing between his teeth. 
 
 I don't suppose he meant she should hear 
 him, but sho did. She duew herself up 
 
 15
 
 226 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 as I should not have supposed possible, and 
 looking her father in the face with her flashing 
 black eyes, she said : 
 
 " God made me, my Lord !" Then turning to 
 me, she said, with as much dignity as ever I saw, 
 " Margaret, we will go home !" 
 
 Felicia used to say sometimes that if I could 
 command the lightning her life would not be safe. 
 I am sure my Lord's would not have been at that 
 moment. I am ashamed to write it, but I do think 
 I could have killed him. I could not trust myself 
 to speak to him. To make the matter worse, 
 Betty's little dog ran between his legs and nearly 
 upset him. "With a curse he kicked the poor beast 
 violently out of his way, and against a stone, where 
 he lay stunned for a moment. This was too much, 
 and Betty burst into passionate tears and lamen- 
 tations. " Oh, my dear dog ! Oh, what shall I 
 do!" 
 
 " Hush, hush !" said I. " The dog is not dead ! 
 See, he moves now !" I set her on her donkey, 
 and put into her arms poor Gill, who was beginning 
 to make a feeble whining, and so we went awa} r , 
 leaving my Lord looking foolish enough. I thought 
 all day the poor beast would die, but he is better 
 to-night. Betty never said one word all the way 
 home, and she has moped all day. I have not 
 told my Lady, and shall not. My Lord met me 
 in the hall to-night, and said something about a 
 game of backgammon, but I would not understand, 
 and passed him with only a reverence. Maybe I
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 227 
 
 am wrong, but I dared not trust myself with him. 
 Since we are to order ourselves reverently to our 
 betters, 'tis to be wished that our betters were a 
 little better! 
 
 August 23. 
 
 The poor little dog is dead ! We nursed it up 
 as well as we could, and I hoped it would get well, 
 but it died last night, after two or three hours of 
 great suffering. It was pitiful to see the poor 
 little wretch, how in its greatest agonies it would 
 look up in answer to Betty's voice, and make a 
 feeble effort to wag its tail. The poor child was 
 broken-hearted, and no wonder. I thought to 
 have a sad time with her ; and so indeed I did, but 
 not as I expected. There was no screaming, none 
 of the violence she has shown heretofore, but deep, 
 distressful sobbing, which seemed to shake her 
 poor thin frame all to pieces. It was not only the 
 loss of the dog, her only playfellow, though that 
 was enough ; but that " papa " should have dono 
 it. I had at last to come to my final argument, 
 which I keep in reserve when all else fails to quiet 
 her. 
 
 " My love, you will make yourself sick !" I said : 
 " and that will distress my Lady, and perhaps make 
 her sick as well." 
 
 "I am sick!" said the poor thing, sobbing; "I 
 am sick of being at all. Everything is so hard for 
 me. I wish I had never been made ! Oh, Mar- 
 garet, why do you suppose that I was made?"
 
 228 Lady Betty's Governess, or ; 
 
 " To be happy in heaven forever !" I said. 
 " That is what we were all made for." 
 
 "Then I wish I had gone there when I was 
 born !" said she. " I think it is a very hard road 
 to get there !" 
 
 " It is a hard road to many beside you, my 
 dear one," I answered. " Think how hard it was 
 made to the poor men Mr. Corbet told us of, who 
 were shut up for years and years in the dungeons 
 of the Inquisition, only to be burned at last, be- 
 cause they would not deny the truth." 
 
 "But why should it be so?" asked Betty. 
 
 "That I cannot tell you," I answered. But, 
 Betty, don't think all the time of the hardness of 
 the road. Think of what is at the end thereof, 
 and how you m&y help those who are going the 
 same way ; and perhaps turn some back who are 
 travelling in the opposite direction. If you live 
 and grow up, you will have a great many chances 
 of doing good, both to men's souls and their 
 bodies. There are your little god-daughters down 
 at the Cove, and the children in the school, and as 
 you grow older, more people still." 
 
 She seemed a little comforted, and to divert her 
 still farther, I told her of Goody Yeo's grand- 
 daughter, who needed a petticoat, which she might 
 make for her. At last she ceased crying, and 
 allowed me to loosen her dress and lay her down to 
 rest. I thought she was asleep, when she roused 
 herself and asked me : 
 
 " Margaret, Avhat sort of a man was your father ?"
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 229 
 
 I told her he was a good man, and much be- 
 loved by all who knew him. 
 
 "If you had had a little dog he would not have 
 killed it," said she. " If you had been crooked 
 and sickly, he would not have wished you were 
 dead!" 
 
 "My love," said I, "you think too hardly of 
 your father. He did not mean to kill the dog." 
 
 "He did not mean to break my heart, either," 
 said this strange child ; " and yet he has done 
 both, and they can't be cured because he did not 
 mean to do it. It was not the saying so it was 
 the thinking so." 
 
 " I don't think he meant it, either," I answered. 
 " People often say a great deal more than they 
 mean. The other day, when Mary broke your 
 china image by accident, you told her that she 
 was an awkward clod, and you wished she was a 
 thousand miles oft* ; yet I am sure you would be 
 very sorry to have her go even ten miles away, 
 would you not?" 
 
 She was silent at this, and seemed to be turning 
 the matter over in her mind. When Mary came 
 in, shortly after, Betty roused up and called her. 
 
 " Mary," said she, " I am very sorry that I was 
 so cross with you about breaking the china image. 
 I said I wished you a thousand miles away, and it 
 was not true. I would not have you go away for 
 anything, and I will never say such wicked things 
 again." 
 
 "Bless your dear, tender heart!" said Mary,
 
 230 Lady Betty s Governess; or, 
 
 kissing the band Betty lield out to her. " I 
 thought nothing of it, my lambkin. I knew you 
 were only angry, and we all say more than we 
 mean at such times." 
 
 " I will try never to be angry again," said Betty. 
 " Margaret, will you ask Thomas to bury my poor 
 dog near to our seat in the wood, and to mark 
 the place ? I should like to have Thomas do it, 
 because he was always fond of poor Gill." 
 
 I promised that it should be done as she desired, 
 and leaving her with Mary, with a charge not to 
 talk, but to lie still and tiy to sleep, I carried the 
 poor little beast down to the stable, and asked 
 Thomas to bury him. As he was smoothing the 
 turf over the little grave, my Lord came along. 
 
 " Hullo, what are you doing here ?" he asked. 
 
 "Burying my little lady's dog," answered 
 Thomas, shortly. He hath been here since the 
 time of my Lord's father, and is apt to say his 
 say to every one about the place, rny Lord in- 
 cluded. 
 
 "Why, what ailed the dog?" asked my Lord. 
 
 " You ought to know, if anybody did, I should 
 say," was the surly answer. "The poor whelp 
 had half his ribs broken. More shame for them 
 as used a dumb .beast so or a Christian either," 
 he muttered to himself. " There, Mistress Mer- 
 ton, that is done as well as if old Sexton himself 
 had had the job ; and I'll beg Dick Gardener for 
 some of his double vilefs, to plant over him." So 
 Kaying, he shouldered his spado and stalked off.
 
 The Corbet Chromcles. 231 
 
 To do my Lord justice, lie did look heartily 
 ashamed and sorry. 
 
 " "Well, well," said he. " I never meant to hurt 
 the dog, I am sure. I suppose Bess is screaming 
 herself into fits about it." 
 
 I told him Lady Betty was very unhappy, but 
 that she had not screamed at all, only cried 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Well, well, I am sorry," he said again. " Give 
 my love to Bess, and tell her I did not mean to 
 kill him. I will get her another, if I have to search 
 the country for it." 
 
 I was glad to hear him say so, and gave his 
 message to Betty, though I did not say he meant 
 to get her another dog. I knew she would not 
 take kindly to the notion just yet, and, besides, it 
 might be only another disappointment. She was 
 very much comforted, and is beginning to be quite 
 cheerful again, though I hear a deep sigh now and 
 then. 
 
 And here I must say that I am conscious of 
 never having done justice to my dear father so 
 long as he lived. He had his faults, no doubt, the 
 chief of which were an over-sanguine disposition, 
 which made every new scheme look absolutely 
 desirable and feasible, and a too lavish use of 
 money while he had it ; but never was a pleasanter 
 man to live with. He was always so genial and 
 kindly : so sunny and cheerful, not by fits and 
 starts, but steadily, and at all times. If mother 
 were disappointed in her calculations if some
 
 232 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 favorite dish were spoiled, or some book or paper 
 mislaid, he was always the one to laugh it off and 
 make everything pleasant again. 
 
 Dear mother had her sorrows and cares, 'tis 
 true ; but I thiuk she was a happy woman, after 
 all. Father was such a help to her, and he was 
 such a safe man to live with. It was like walking 
 on the firm, solid ground, instead of upon treach- 
 erous ice, or over a mine ; like sailing on the open 
 sea instead of among rocks and quicksands, where 
 one must be all the time on the lookout, and after 
 all some sudden gust or unsuspected current may 
 make all one's caution of no avail. I fancy it is 
 this constant observing of her husband's humors 
 which has made my Lady so silent and self-re- 
 strained in company, even at her own table, and 
 which makes many people think her stiff and cold. 
 She is like another person here in the nursery, or 
 with Mrs. Corbet. 
 
 And yet my Lord hath many excellent qualities. 
 He is generous to a fault, and I am sure he would 
 spare neither time nor gold to procure for my 
 Lady anything he thought she would like. He is 
 brave too, and would venture his life without a 
 thought, if even the poorest fisher lad were in 
 danger; as he did, they tell me, in the storm last 
 winter. I am the last one to judge him hardly, for 
 I know my own failings in that line, and how often 
 I have said or done in a minute of provocation 
 what I would have given a great deal to undo 
 again. I am sure my Lord is not malicious. Ho
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 233 
 
 would never lay such a trap for any one as Lady 
 Jemima did for me the other day, nor would he 
 persevere in a course of tormenting, day after day, 
 or take advantage of a time when one was feeling 
 unhappy or annoyed about something else, to say 
 the most aggravating thing he could think of. But 
 there ! I said I would never think of Felicia if I 
 could help it.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 September 3. 
 
 SOMETHING has happened since I wrote 
 last, which, though it makes no seeming 
 change in my outward circumstances, has 
 changed my whole life, so that I seem to 
 myself to be living in another world. Mr. Corbet 
 hath asked me to be his wife. 
 
 It chanced on this wise. I had been down to 
 see Goody Yeo and carry her the petticoat Betty 
 had been making for her grandchild. Betty was 
 to have gone herself, but the day was damp, and I 
 thought it not safe for her to go out. I would 
 have kept the petticoat till next clay, but Betty 
 would not hear of that, so I wrapped myself in my 
 cloak and went down to the village. It cleared up 
 before my return, and I thought I would come 
 back by the ravine, which is ever a favorite walk 
 of mine, from its lonely stillness. The servants 
 rarely use the path, from I know not what super- 
 stition of a ghost which haunts it. There is a 
 ghost, or a dobby, or a pixy, or some such creature 
 in every corner of the place, it seems to me. 
 (231)
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 235 
 
 "Well, as I was lingeriDg a little by the spring, and 
 looking into its clear depths, where the water boils 
 up from a large and seemingly deep cleft in tho 
 rocks, I was startled by a voice, and looking up, 
 I beheld Lord Saville. I have hated the man since 
 the first time I ever saw him. His very look is an 
 insult : especially when he tries to look fascinat- 
 ing and amiable. 
 
 "So the fair Margaret is admiring her own 
 beauty in the mirror of the spring!" said he. 
 " Are you not afraid of exciting the jealousy of the 
 naiad of the fountain? Nay, be not in such 
 haste" for I would have passed him, with only a 
 greeting, but he stepped into the narrow path and 
 would not let me go by. " Surely you will not be 
 so cruel as not to vouchsafe one word to your 
 most humble admirer !" 
 
 " I understand no court compliments, my Lord !" 
 said I, trying to speak coldly and calmly, though I 
 was in a fever of indignation. " I am but a simple 
 country maid. I pray you to let me pass !" 
 
 He would not, however, but went on in the samo 
 strain of fulsome flattery, and said things which I 
 will not write here. Seeing that I could not pass 
 him, I turned to go back to the village ; but a 
 single stride brought him to my side. 
 
 " Not so fast, fair lady !" said he. " You are 
 the rightful captive of my bow and spear, and do 
 not escape so easily. What ! It was another 
 cavalier you were waiting for !" 
 
 " I was waiting for nobody !" said I. " I was on
 
 236 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 iny way home about my own business and my 
 Lady's." 
 
 He laughed in his impudent, jeering fashion, and 
 saying something about pretty Puritan airs and 
 graces, attempted to put his arm round my waist. 
 Then all the old Merton temper flashed up in mo 
 in an instant, and I am ashamed to say, I turned 
 upon him and slapped his face so soundly as to 
 leave the prints of my fingers on his pink cheeks. 
 Nay, I verily believe I made his nose bleed. I a in 
 sure my own palm smarted for an hour after. He 
 withdrew his arm with an oath, which sounded 
 much more genuine than his compliments, and 
 clapped his hand to his face. I burst from him, 
 and running down the path, half blind with shame 
 and anger, I ran right iuto Mr. Corbet's arms, 
 who was coming up the coomb, followed by his 
 dogs. 
 
 " Margaret !" he exclaimed, in amazement, and 
 well he might, for my dress was disordered, and I 
 dare say I looked like a fury. " What is the mat- 
 ter ? What has so discomposed you ?" 
 
 For the moment I saw him I felt myself safe, 
 and, like a fool, I burst into tears, and cried as 
 Betty herself might have done. In the midst of 
 my distress, and while he was trying to soothe me, 
 and get some sense out of me, Lord Saville made 
 his appearance. 
 
 "So!" said he, " Oriana hath found her Amadis, 
 it seems. Doubtless the fair dame knew her 
 knight was in hearing when she resisted with such
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 237 
 
 ferocious virtue. 'Tis an old trick, but it may do 
 for the west country.'* 
 
 " My Lord !" said Walter I may call him so 
 here " if you say another word or offer another 
 affront to this lady, I will put you over the cliff 
 yonder, and give you a worse wetting than old 
 Norman Leslie did in Paris, when he laid your 
 face downward in the gutter for sneering at his 
 Scotch accent." 
 
 Lord Saville grew pale with rage. " You shall 
 answer this !" said he. " You shall give me the 
 satisfaction of a gentleman !" 
 
 " The satisfaction of a gentleman is due to gen- 
 tlemen!" answered "Walter. "Nay, never grind 
 your teeth at me, I know you well !" and with 
 that he said some words in Italian, at which Lord 
 Saville blenched as if he had been struck. 
 
 " Allow me to see you home, Mistress Merton !" 
 said Walter, and putting the courtier aside, as if 
 he had been an intrusive dog, ho passed him and 
 led me toward home. 
 
 " Sit down a moment," said he, kindly, seeing 
 that I trembled so that I could hardly stand. 
 " You are quite overcome." 
 
 "I am very silly," I stammered; "but oh, 
 nobody ever spoke so to me before." 
 
 " 'Tis' not worth minding," said Mr. Corbet. 
 " How did it chance ?" 
 
 I told him, as well as I could, though I would 
 not repeat all that Lord Saville said to me. 
 
 " Aye, lie is a fine specimen of a Court gallant,"
 
 238 Lady Betty's Governess, or; 
 
 said Mr. Corbet, bitterly. " 'Tis such as lie, 
 ruffling in his fine clothes and spending money and 
 compliments, that are alienating men's hearts from 
 the king, and raising among sober, hard-working 
 people in London, such hatred toward the Court 
 party, as I fear will bear bloody fruit ere long." 
 
 " But surely," said I, " the King cannot approve 
 him ?" 
 
 "The King, sweetheart, sees with his wife's 
 eyes, and hears with her ears : and Lord Saville is 
 mighty great with the Queen and her party. But 
 are you enough recovered to go home? I was on 
 my way to my Lady with a message from my 
 mother, which concerns you. I am obliged to go 
 to Bristol for a week, on public business, and my 
 mother means to beg you and Betty to keep her 
 company for the time. It will be a change for the 
 child, and for you also, and . my mother wilJ 
 be much pleased/' 
 
 I was glad of the chance for such a change of 
 air and scene for Betty, who was still rather 
 drooping, and not sorry for my own sake to go 
 away for a little time. 
 
 " I think you will find our old house a pleasant 
 one, though it is nothing so grand as the Court," 
 continued Walter. " I want you to learn to love 
 it, for my sake." 
 
 Perhaps he might have said more, but at that 
 moment he met Mrs. Priscilla Fulton, who has 
 been staying in the house : so leaving me with her, 
 Walter went straight to my Lady.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles, 239 
 
 " I have been looking for you," said Mrs. 
 Fulton, who is always very gracious to me and 
 everybody : " my Lady says you are a famous 
 knitter, and I want you to teach me the stitches, 
 Is that asking too much of your good nature Mrs. 
 Merton?" 
 
 " Surely not, madam," 1 answered. " I will do 
 so with pleasure." So we went up to the nursery, 
 and really had a very nice time over our knitting. 
 She is a very pleasant young lady. In the midst 
 thereof came my Lady with a note in her hand, 
 and calling me out of the room, she imparted its 
 contents to me, and asked me how I should like to 
 make a visit to Corby-End? I told her that 1 
 should like it very well, and that I thought the 
 change would do Betty good. So it was settled. 
 Mr. Corbet went to Bristol next day, and Betty and 
 I to Corby-End, where we are now. "Tis a 
 beautiful old house far more to my mind than 
 Stanton Court, with all its grandeur. Betty is 
 delighted, though she was a little homesick the 
 first night, and cried for her mother. She goes 
 with Madam to see and feed the fowls and calves, 
 and seems to be gaining strength every day. 
 
 But I am a long time coming to the gist of my 
 story. Only three days after "Walter went away, 
 wo were sitting by the fire late one evening, after 
 Botty had gone to bed (for Madam uses a little 
 fire now the evenings are growing cool and damp), 
 when wo heard some one ride up the road, and 
 presently Walter entered in his riding suit, splashed
 
 240 Lady Betty s Governess; or, 
 
 with mud, and looking so distressed that liis 
 mother started up in alarm. 
 
 " Walter, my son, what brings you back so soon ? 
 And surely you have heard some bad news ?" 
 
 "Aye, that have I, mother evil and bitter 
 news," said he, gravely. "Mother, Sir John 
 Elliot is dead." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! Is he gone, the good and brave 
 man ?" said Mrs. Corbet. " Did he die at home ?" 
 
 " Not so ! He died in prison in the Tower, 
 whence he had vainly prayed to be removed. The 
 King hath even refused to his orphan children the 
 poor comfort of paying the last rites to their 
 father's bod}', which is thrust into a hole, like 
 a dog's. The bravo good man hath been denied 
 that mercy he ever showed, even to his enemies 
 Alas, my brother !" And with that he covered his 
 face and wept like a child. 'Tis a terrible thing to 
 see a strong, self-restrained man weep. He con- 
 trolled himself in a moment, however, and sat 
 silently looking at the fire. 
 
 "But how did you hear?" asked his mother, 
 presently. He told her that he had met in Exeter 
 a messenger with letters from London, and that 
 he must himself go up to town next day but one. 
 " I must see what can be done for those children. 
 Maybe something can be saved for them," said he ; 
 " and I must see and consult with our friends. I 
 think the King is utterly mad. At the rate things 
 are going, the Court will leave us neither King 
 nor Church before another five years. We are
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 241 
 
 fallen on evil days, and the worst is, one knows 
 not which side to take." 
 
 "If only one need take neither side," said 
 Madam, sighing. " But I well know that cannot 
 be. 'Tis a woeful thing that the King should 
 be so ill advised. But are you sure that Sir 
 John's body was refused to his family? I can 
 scarce believe it."* 
 
 " So Mr. Hampden writes me," returned Walter, 
 taking a letter from his pocket ; " and he is not a 
 man to speak at random. Here is what he says : 
 
 " ' Sir John petitioned again and again that he 
 might be set at liberty, to regain his health, 
 injured by the close and bad air of his prison, but 
 the King's only answer was that the petition was 
 not humble enough. At last he died, and his son 
 begged most humbly that he might have liberty to 
 carry his father's body into Cornwall, there to be 
 buried with his ancestors. His Majesty wrote at 
 the foot of the petition : 
 
 "'Let Sir John Elliot's body be buried in the 
 church of the parish where he died,' and accord- 
 ingly our friend's corpse was thrust into an obscure 
 corner of the Tower church. This is the end of 
 an honorable and just man, after ten years' 
 languishing in prison, and that for no fault save 
 that of upholding valiantly the constitutional 
 liberties of the House of Commons. The Court 
 party make no secret of their exultation, but the 
 
 * I hero tako a slight liberty with history. Sir John Elliot 
 died in 1G32. The circumstances -were as related above. 
 
 16
 
 242 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 King's real friends are in great dismay ; and for 
 mine own part I see not any good end possible.' " 
 
 "Mr. Hampden writes very moderately," re- 
 marked Madam. 
 
 " 'Tis ever his way to say less than lie feels," re- 
 plied Walter. " The others are hot enough. But I 
 am forgetting my trast," he added, turning to me 
 with a grave smile. " My grief makes me but a 
 faithless messenger. I have letters for you, Mrs. 
 Merton, which Mrs. Carey received in a packet 
 from her son, and prayed me to deliver." 
 
 So saying he took out a packet and put it into 
 my hands. 
 
 "And I am forgetting, too," said his mother; 
 " you have had no supper." 
 
 "I have tasted nothing since morning, save a 
 cold morsel at Dame Howell's, where we stopped 
 to feed the horses," replied "Walter. 
 
 "Margaret, will you order supper?" asked 
 Madam. " You see," she added, smiling, as I rose 
 to obey, " I treat you as a daughter." 
 
 I could have boxed my own ears worse than I 
 did my Lord Saville's for the burning blush which 
 mantled my face at these simple words. Mr. Cor- 
 bet smiled in his sudden fashion, which makes me 
 always think of the shining out of the sun from 
 behind a cloud, and repeated some lines of poetry 
 in Italian, for which I was none the wiser. I 
 ordered his supper (and I might have spared the 
 pains, for old Mrs. Prudence had it already pre- 
 pared, and was nowise pleased, I could see, at my
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 243 
 
 interference), and then escaped to my room to read 
 my letters. 
 
 They were both pleasant and painful. Mother 
 and the children are well, and everything goes on 
 comfortably at home. Mother says that many of 
 the farmers and neighboring gentry have sent her * 
 presents of fruit, honey, and the like, as they used 
 to do when my father was alive; and she hath 
 wool and flax enough to keep her wheel going in 
 all her spare minutes. Eunice hath learned to 
 spin flax, and sends me a sample of her thread, 
 which is very fair, but Lois cannot manage it. 
 However, she hath learned to write nicely, and ray 
 mother says Jacky is growing a good boy, and a 
 great help to her, and does well at his books. 
 Richard has an increase of wages, and is in great 
 liking with his master. The disagreeable part is 
 that Felicia has written to mother, saying she has 
 heard a very bad account of me from one of the 
 ladies of the family, and begs mother to advise me 
 to hold my tongue and keep to my own place, with 
 other such matters. Mother says she does not 
 regard the news, knowing so well the quarter from 
 whence it comes, but I can see that it troubles 
 her. 
 
 The next day we were all busy in preparing for 
 Walter's journey to London. Betty was made 
 happy by being allowed to help make some gin- 
 gerbread and biscuits. The servants all pet her 
 and make much of her, and she goes about the 
 house freely wherever she likes, and is as one of
 
 244 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 the family, -which is a great deal better than being 
 confined to one room. I fear she will feel the 
 change greatly when she goes homo again. 
 
 A little before sunset I was in the garden, whither 
 Madam had sent me to gather some early apples 
 for supper, when "Walter joined me. 
 
 "I fear my mother lays too much upon you," 
 said he, bending down with his strong arm the 
 bough I was striving *to reach. 
 
 " Not at all," I answered. " It makes me feel 
 happy to be going freely about house again, and 
 helping in household matters. If I only had my 
 wheel, I should feel myself quite at home." 
 
 "So would I have you feel," said Walter, ear- 
 nestly. " I would have you look upon this house 
 as your home, and my mother as your mother. 
 All that I have to give is yours if you will but take 
 it. Margaret, will you be my wife, and a daughter 
 to my mother ?" 
 
 I hardly know what I said, but ho went on 
 speaking. 
 
 "I am not a fit mate for you in many respects," 
 said he. " You are a fresh young maid, and I am 
 a middle-aged man, worn and browned by much 
 travel, and many wars by sea and land too grave 
 and sober, mayhap, to please a maiden's fancy ; 
 but I love you, and I believe, with God's blessing, 
 I can make you happy !" 
 
 "And your mother and your friends and my 
 Lord !" I stammered. 
 
 "My mother will be well pleased with what
 
 Tke Corbet Chronicles. 246 
 
 pleases me, and she also loves you for your own 
 sake," he rejoined. "As for my Lord, it is no 
 concern of his, that I know of 1" 
 
 " But as the head of your house and family," I 
 said. 
 
 " He is no more the head of my family than I 
 am of his!" was Mr. Corbet's reply. "For the 
 matter of that, the house of Corbet is older than 
 that of Sfcanton, and lived on- their own lands when 
 the Stantons were unheard of. Don't you know 
 the rhyme : 
 
 ' Corby of Corby sat at home, 
 When Stanton of Stanton hither did come.' 
 
 'Tis true, I am the next heir to the title at pre- 
 sent, but I covet it not, and should rejoice heartily 
 if my Lady had half a dozen boys to-morrow." 
 
 " So would not I," I could not help saying. 
 " One would be quite enough !" 
 
 " Well, perhaps so. But, at all events, Marga- 
 ret, I owe no duty to my Lord, in that respect." 
 
 I cannot tell all he said, but at last he made me 
 confess that I loved him. 
 
 "Good!" said he, kissing my hand. " That is 
 all I ask or need. And now, when shall we be 
 married ?" 
 
 I felt my face flush like fire. 
 
 " Not for a long time yet !" I answered him : " I 
 have solemnly promised my dear Lady to stay with 
 Lady Betty for at least a year, unless I am turned 
 away, and I do not think that will happen, for from
 
 246 Lady Betty s Governess ; or. 
 
 something my Lord let fall, I know lie lias prom- 
 ised my Lady not to interfere." 
 
 Walter looked annoyed, and his brow darkened. 
 "When was this promise made ?" he asked. 
 
 I told him it was at the time of the affair with 
 Mr. Penrose. 
 
 " But my cousin would surely release you in 
 such a case as this !" said Walter. " She is the 
 most unselfish of mortals." 
 
 " I suppose she would, and therefore she must 
 not ever be asked to do so," I replied. " I know 
 well my duty to her and to Betty, and I should 
 feel that I was making an ill-beginning, should I 
 fail in that regard." 
 
 " But do you not also owe something to me ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Much !" I answered. " So much, that were it 
 to do again I should not make such a promise ; but 
 having made it, when I had everything to gain 
 thereby, I dare not break it, ndw that such a course 
 would be to my advantage. I would not have the 
 matter even mentioned, till the trying time is past. 
 There is sure to be a storm, and such a scene as that 
 of the other night is as much as her life is worth." 
 
 I cannot write all the arguments he used. We 
 talked till Madam herself sent to call us in to 
 supper. 
 
 " I bring you a daughter, mother !" said Walter, 
 as we went into Madam's room, where she sat 
 alone ; " a dutiful daughter, but also an obstinate 
 one. I trust to you to bring her to reason."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 247 
 
 Madam folded me in her arms, and gave me her 
 blessing most heartily. But when she heard the 
 matter in dispute, she took my part, and said I 
 was right ; and after a time Walter yielded so far 
 as to consent that the matter should rest till after 
 Hallow-mass, by which time we hoped all would 
 be happily over. 
 
 " Margaret must have the approval of her own 
 mother and brother, as well as my Lady's, under 
 whose care and authority she is at present," said 
 Madam : " and though, as my son says, he owes 
 no obedience to my Lord in this or any other 
 matter, yet, for Margaret's sake, as well as our 
 own, I would have no broils or disagreements. 
 In these troublous times, family bonds should be 
 drawn as closely as may be. Let matters rest as 
 they are till Walter's return." 
 
 So it was all settled. I called Betty, who was 
 helping Mrs. Prudence in the still-room, and wo 
 sat down quietly to supper. Afterward, and when 
 Betty was gone to bed, Walter and I sat over the 
 fire, talking for a long time, Madam being in her 
 chamber. 
 
 "You will go and see my Aunt Willson in 
 London, will you not ?" I asked. " She is a good 
 woman, though somewhat rough in her manners, 
 and hath been very kind to me ;" and then, sud- 
 denly remembering Felicia, I checked myself and 
 wished I had not spoken. 
 
 "You have another kinswoman staying with 
 her, have you not ?" he asked ; " a young Lidy
 
 248 JLady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 who is very much engaged in Lady Jemima's 
 scheme of the nunnery ?" 
 
 That was news to me, but I said yes, my 
 father's sister lived with Mrs. Willson. 
 
 " I heard of her from Lady Jemima," continued 
 "Walter : " you are not in my Lady Abbess' good 
 books, Margaret, I can tell you." 
 
 "I know that, only too well," said I. "Sl^p 
 has been prejudiced against me, and nothing I 
 can do or say pleases her. I am very sorry, for I 
 was fond of her, and she began by being very kiiid 
 to me in her way." 
 
 " She has a great deal of good in her," remarked 
 Walter; "but she is wholly governed by her 
 imagination, and she can see no good in anybody 
 who differs from her. After all, I think the root 
 of her fault lies in her overweening estimate of 
 herself, which makes it a crime in her eyes for 
 any one to cross or oppose her." 
 
 So we talked till Madam herself sent us to bed. 
 Walter went away early next morning, promising 
 to write me under cover to his mother. The day 
 after to-morrow Betty and I return home. I must 
 say 1 dread it. My life here has been so pleasant 
 and homelike ; so free from any dread of giving 
 offence ; so full of quiet and homely pleasures. 
 I have been to church, and so has Betty, and she 
 has also had the supreme pleasure of visiting the 
 school, and distributing to the girls with her own 
 hands the buns she helped to make. The school 
 is wonderfully effective, Madam tells me, and has
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 249 
 
 been the greatest blessing to the children of tho 
 village. 
 
 Mistress Ellenwood has been here many years, 
 and is now teaching the children of those who 
 were her pupils when she first came hither. I 
 have also been down to the Cove, where I heard 
 the tale of Madam's persecutions, as a witch, many 
 years ago, and made the acquaintance of Uncle 
 Jan Lee, the fisherman, who had the chief hand 
 in rescuing her from the mob. He seldom goes 
 out now, and has no need to do so, for his son and 
 nephew (who is also his son-in-law) provide for 
 him handsomely. The latter, Will Atkins by 
 name, is an officer on board the same ship as 
 Walter, and much honored for his bravery and 
 seamanship. 
 
 Aside from the great happiness it has brought 
 me, I am heartily glad, for Betty's sake, that wo 
 made this visit. She has had her little world 
 wonderfully enlarged thereby. She has been into 
 the cottages and seen how the poor folks live : 
 she has actually taken a little month old babe on 
 her lap, and seen it dressed and suckled ; she has 
 seen cows milked and poultry fed. 
 
 My Lord met us one day as we were coming 
 from Goody Yeo's cottage. I knew not what 
 would happen, but he only asked where we had 
 been, and when he heard, laughed and patted 
 her cheek, and called her " Little Dame Bounti- 
 ful," and then, putting his hand in his pocket, gave 
 IKT a handful of pence to bestow on her pets. It
 
 25o Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 is a pity he will ever give place to the evil spirit, 
 as he does at times. He is so very gracious and 
 pleasant when he is his better self. 
 
 September 7. 
 
 "We are at home again, and have fallen quite 
 back into our old ways. Not quite, either. Betty 
 is much more active, goes about the house and 
 grounds, and has persuaded Mrs. Judith to give 
 her some share in feeding the poultry. We found 
 a pleasant surprise awaiting us at our return. 
 Betty's room had been cleaned, and all new hung 
 with fresh, pretty tapestry, representing scenes 
 from the Morte d' Arthur, and a little room next, 
 hitherto used as a lumber-room, hath been cleared 
 out and fitted up as a sitting-room for her and 
 myself. Hero I found standing a pretty carved 
 spinning-wheel and a basket of fine flax, and 
 Betty a still greater surprise a beautiful little 
 dog, as like poor Gill as two peas, which at our 
 approach sprang from his cushion, and began 
 fawning around her feet, and looking up in her 
 face as though he would entreat her favor. Betty 
 looked at him and then at me, and then stooring 
 down to pat him, she burst into tears. 
 
 "See how kind my Lord has been!" said I. 
 " He told me he would get you another dog, if one 
 could be found." 
 
 " It was very good in papa, and it is a very 
 pretty dog," said Betty, sobbing ; " but I shall 
 never love him as I did poor Gill."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 25 1 
 
 I did not think it worth while to argue that 
 point, knowing that the dog would make his own 
 way, but told her she should write a letter of 
 thanks to my Lord. She took to the notion at 
 once, and after some trouble made a very fai 
 copy of a note of thanks, which I carried to my 
 Lord at supper-time. He was pleased, and said 
 'twas very well done, and a credit both to Bess 
 and to me. 
 
 " But did she really write it herself ?" he asked. 
 " Of course not," interrupted Lady Jemima. 
 " I wonder you cannot see that 'tis all Mrs. Mer- 
 ton's own work, from first to last." 
 
 " You are mistaken, madam," I answered. " I 
 did indeed put the idea into Lady Betty's mind, 
 but both words and handwriting are all her own. 
 I never gave her any help, save to tell her how to 
 spell the words." 
 
 " And very well done it is," said my Lord ; " and 
 you may tell Bess I am heartily glad she likes the 
 dog. And I thank you too, Mrs. Margaret, for 
 taking so much pains with the child, as I believe 
 you do. You must not niiud if I am hasty now 
 and then. Tis only my way." 
 
 " I wonder you can be so deceived, brother !" 
 said Lady Jemima. 
 
 " Tut, tut !" he answered, more gravely than lie 
 is wont to speak. "I have eyes in my head, I 
 warrant you. See you not that the words and the 
 writing are all those of a child? But never mind 
 her, Margaret," he added, relapsing into his usual
 
 252 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 careless tone. " She is in an ill-humor. She has 
 dismissed her fine court suitor with a flea in his 
 ear, and now she is sorry, as all women are when 
 a lover takes them at their word eh, Margaret ?" 
 
 From which words of my Lord's, and from what 
 Mrs. Judith told me, I learned that Lord Saville 
 was a suitor for the hand of Lady Jemima. It 
 seems she has a good fortune of her own, and 
 though she must be older than Lord Saville, she 
 is a handsome woman still, or would be, if she 
 dressed like other women of quality. But I am 
 glad to say she would none of him, but sent him 
 packing with but little ceremony. She is full of 
 her notion of a kind of nunnery, which she means 
 to establish at a house she has near Exeter, and 
 has engaged several ladies to join with her, one 
 of which, it seems, is Felicia. They will have a 
 peaceful household, no doubt. She is very earnest 
 with Mrs. Priscilla Fulton to join her also, but it 
 seems the latter is not yet decided. 
 
 I cannot feel right about keeping this matter 
 secret from my Lady. She stands, as Madam said, 
 in the place of a mother to me, and she has been 
 so very kind. I think I must tell her all about it, 
 happen what may. I told Madam Corbet so this 
 afternoon. She smiled, and said : 
 
 " I knew it would come to that, dear heart, and 
 I think you are right. She may, perhaps, be ill- 
 pleased at first, but she is the most reasonable of 
 creatures. But, now, suppose I undertake the 
 commission for you ?"
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 253 
 
 " Oh, I should be so thankful !" I exclaimed. 
 " Surely no poor girl was ever so blessed with 
 kind friends as I am." 
 
 " Well, well ! I hope you will never want them, 
 my love," said Madam, kissing me. " But, Mar- 
 garet, I think we will confine our confidence to 
 my Lady. It need go no farther, at present. Not 
 that I am ashamed or unwilling to let the whole 
 world know what wife my son hath chosen, but 
 coming events may change the aspect of matters, 
 and for all our sakes, but especially for Elizabeth's, 
 I would fain avoid a storm. Are you still resolved 
 to abide your year's waiting ?" 
 
 " I am, unless matters should greatly change," 
 said I. " It seems to me one of the cases where a 
 man sweareth to his neighbor and disappointeth 
 him not, though it were to his" own hindrance. I 
 promised my Lady in the most solemn manner not 
 to leave Lady Betty for at least a year, and I do 
 not think that I have any right to break that pro- 
 mise, because it would be greatly to my advantage 
 to do so. It does seem to me that the first thing 
 to be thought of is our duty. The rest is of little 
 consequence in comparison to that." 
 
 This little conversation took place in our sitting- 
 room, Betty being out with Mrs. Judith feeding 
 the fowls, in which they both take as much in- 
 terest as though they were human beings. (I 
 often wonder that Mrs. Judith can allow any of 
 her subjects to be killed ; she thinks so much of 
 them. I believe she feels it a great hardship that
 
 264 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 they cannot have the freedom of the place, and 
 she can hardly forgive Dick Gardener for stoning 
 an old hen out of the garden, where she was 
 making herself much at home among his gilly- 
 flowers. Richard used to say at home it was 
 father's and my maxim that " A cat could do no 
 wrong;" and I believe Mrs. Judith applies the 
 same to her hens. Thus much, by the way.) 
 
 We were interrupted by Mrs. Fulton coming in 
 with her knitting, about which she is much engaged. 
 She had gotten into difficulties, and I asked her to 
 sit down by me and do several rows, that I might 
 overlook her. This same knitting of Mrs. Priscy's 
 has made us well acquainted, and her visits are 
 ever a pleasure both to Betty and me ; but I don't 
 think Lady Jemima is at all pleased with them. 
 
 After the knitting was rectified and going on 
 well again, Mrs. Priscy began talking about Lady 
 Jemima's nunnery, which is no longer any secret. 
 She was quite full of enthusiasm about the matter, 
 and thought it such a beautiful fancy for women to 
 vow themselves to God's service, retire from the 
 world, and occupy themselves with good works, 
 such as nursing the sick and bringing up children. 
 
 Madam Corbet smiled. " But, dear heart, why 
 should one retire from the world to do all these 
 things? Tell me, Priscilla, how many children 
 hath your own good mother brought up ?" 
 
 " Sixteen," answered Mrs. Priscy, smiling. 
 
 " And, withal, she hath done not a little nursing, 
 hath she not?"
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 20 5 
 
 "Indeed she Lath !" answered Mrs. Priscy, with 
 animation. "You know, Madam, my Gaffer, my 
 father's father, was with us all the latter years of 
 his life, when he was very feeble both in mind 
 and body, and needed as much care as a babe 
 and then there was poor little Amy, and my 
 brother, who was wounded at Eochelle, and lin- 
 gered on a year, besides the care of the little 
 ones. Yes, indeed, my mother has had her share 
 of nursing." 
 
 " And, with all that, she has found time not only 
 to read the Scriptures and other good books herself, 
 but to instruct her children in the same," continued 
 Madam. " Moreover she has done what lay in her 
 power to promote the innocent happiness of all 
 about her." 
 
 " Yes, indeed she has," answered Mrs. Priscilla, 
 with tears in her eyes, and a rising color, which 
 made her, methought, prettier than ever. " Oh, 
 Madam, nobody knows nor ever will know how 
 much good my dear honored mother hath done in 
 the world!" 
 
 "And all this without any ostentatious retire- 
 ment from the world any conventual robes, to say 
 to every one, 'See how much better I am than 
 you!' any vows but those of her baptism," said 
 Mrs. Corbet, smiling. 
 
 Mrs. Priscilla smiled and blushed in her turn. 
 
 "That is true!" said she. " I am sure no nun 
 ever did any more ; but yet " 
 
 " But yet all this was done in the station wherein
 
 256 Lady Bettys Governess, or; 
 
 she was placed by God, and following out the duty 
 to which, God hath called her, instead of placing 
 herself in one which He hath never appointed, and 
 for which He hath given no directions !" said Mrs. 
 Corbet. "In His word we find abundance of 
 councils and commands to wives, husbands, widows, 
 servants, and children, and the like, but not one 
 that I can remember to nuns !" 
 
 " And to bishops and ministers," said Mrs. 
 Priscy. 
 
 " Yes that they should be the husband of one 
 wife !" I could not help saying, whereat they both 
 laughed, and Mrs. Priscy blushed. (I think she 
 hath a fancy for Mr. Penrose. I wish he would 
 take a liking to her. I am sure she would make 
 him an excellent wife.) 
 
 " But all women do not wish to marry, or have 
 not the chance to do so," said Mrr. Priscilla. 
 " What would you have them do ?" 
 
 ""Whatever Providence brings in their way," 
 answered Mrs. Corbet. "If they are in earnest 
 about wishing to serve Him, they are not like to 
 go begging for work. Look at Mistress Ellenwood, 
 our excellent schoolmistress. Where will you 
 find a life more useful and devoted than hers?" 
 
 "But still there seems something so noble in 
 devoting oneself, body and soul, to His service !' 
 remarked Mrs. Priscilla ; " in vowing all one's en* 
 ergies to His work !" 
 
 "Well, my dear one, have you not already 
 vowed as much at your baptism?" asked Madam.
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles . 267 
 
 " Tell me, now, what were those things which your 
 sponsors then promised for you?" 
 
 Mrs. Priscy repeated according to the Catechism : 
 
 "'First, that I should renounce the devil and 
 all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the 
 world, and all the sinful lusts of the flesh : secondly, 
 that I should believe all the articles of the Christian 
 faith : thirdly, that I should keep God's holy will 
 and commandments, and walk in the same all the 
 days of my life.' " 
 
 " You see these promises cover a great deal of 
 ground," said Mrs. Corbet. " You engage nothing 
 less than absolute obedience and giving up of 
 yourself to God all your life long. Now tell me, 
 having promised all to begin with, what can any 
 other vows add to the force of these ?" 
 
 "But it seems as though it would be so much 
 easier," said Mrs; Priscilla "so much easier, I 
 mean, to serve Him in retirement, away from the 
 distractions of the world and all the temptations 
 and interruptions of every-day life." 
 
 "Then it seems it is your own ease you are 
 seeking, after all!" said Madam, with a penetrat- 
 ing look. 
 
 Mrs. Priscy blushed, but made no answer. 
 
 "I believe, however, that you make a gre.it 
 mistake in thinking so !" continued Madam. " I 
 believe you would find that you had only ex- 
 changed the great world for a very narrow one, with 
 which the flesh and the devil have as much com- 
 merce as Avith the other. I havo heard in years 
 17
 
 258 Lady Betty s Governess; or y 
 
 past a great deal about convent life from my 
 grandame, who brought me up, and who was her- 
 self bred in one of the best religious houses of this 
 country, and I do not believe that life within the 
 convent walls is, as a general thing, either holier or 
 happier than ordinary family life." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by the 
 entrance of Betty, in a state of great excitement, 
 with a red-breast, which she had found lying on 
 the ground with a broken wing. Launce (so she 
 hath called her new dog, being short for Launcelot 
 in the Morte d' Arthur) was as much excited as 
 herself, and the small tempest diverted and broke 
 up the conversation. After the red-breast was 
 comfortably accommodated in a cage which I found 
 for him, and Betty had gone to put her dress to 
 rights and wash her face, Madam rose and said 
 she would go see her cousin, and Lady Jemima 
 came to seek Mrs. Priscilla. I called Betty to her 
 lessons, which she now does regularly every day ; 
 but I am afraid I was rather absent-minded and 
 distracted; for while Betty was repeating the 
 verses I had set her to learn, she stopped, and 
 said, rather sharply, " Margaret, you are not pay- 
 ing attention. I have said it wrong twice, and you 
 have taken no notice at all !" 
 
 " Then if you have said it wrong twice, you had 
 better take the book and learn it over!" I an- 
 swered her gravely, handing her back the book; 
 whereat she looked so blank that I could not 
 forbear laughing.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 25g 
 
 " Come !" said I ; " begin again, and we will 
 both try to do better." 
 
 So I compelled myself to attend, and we finished 
 the lessons prosperously. At night, after Betty 
 had gone to bed, my Lady sent for me to come to 
 her room. I did so, I must confess, with fear and 
 trembling, for though I knew not that I had done 
 anything wrong, I could not tell how my Lady 
 might take the matter ; and, for all she is so 
 gentle and kind, or perhaps I should say because 
 she is so gentle and kind, I dread her anger far 
 more than I do my Lord's tantrums. 
 
 I found her alone, sitting in her great chair, and 
 looking thoughtfully at the fire on the hearth. My 
 Lady, like Madam, will have a fire when she 
 pleases, without waiting till Michaelmas, according 
 to the old rule ; and, indeed, I can see no sense in 
 going cold because it is one time of the year rather 
 than another. So there was a little fire of pine 
 cones and sticks blazing on the hearth, and my Lady 
 sat before it. She beckoned me to take a low seat 
 by her side, and I did so, in silence, waiting for 
 her to begin. 
 
 " So," said she, presently : " I have been hearing 
 of fine doings between you and grave Cousin 
 Walter, whom every one thought to have a head 
 too full of public matters to meddle hi love-mak- 
 ing. What think you I shall say to you, maiden ?" 
 
 "I am sure you will say nothing but what 
 is right and kind, my Lady, I answered, taking 
 courage from her tone. " I begged Madam to tell
 
 260 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 you, because I felt that I ought not to have any 
 secrets from you." 
 
 " So my cousin said, and so far it was well done : 
 but, Margaret, ought you to have promised your- 
 self to any man, much more a member of mine 
 own family, without asking me ?" 
 
 " I did not, my Lady," I answered her, eagerly 
 " I told Mr. Corbet I was bound to be ruled by 
 you, and I could not marry without your consent : 
 and I said I would not leave you for a year, at all 
 events, because I had promised to abide with 
 Lady Betty for that space of time, whatever 
 might happen." 
 
 " Why, that was well," said my Lady ; " but, 
 sweetheart, a year is a long time. I fear you are 
 laying out for yourself a hard piece of work 
 harder than you will have strength to perform." 
 
 " I think not, my Lady," I said. " It is my duty 
 to be faithful to my word and to you, and I am 
 sure that I shall have strength given me to do it. 
 Beside that, I do not think it will be as hard now 
 as it has been heretofore." 
 
 " I suppose it was this same regard for Master 
 Walter, which so hardened your heart against 
 poor Mr. Penrose," said my Lady, after a little 
 silence. 
 
 " I think not, altogether, my Lady," I answered. 
 " I don't think I should have cared to marry Mr. 
 Penrose, even though I had never seen Mr. Corbet ; 
 though, I confess, 1 never knew what Mr. Corbet 
 was to me till then."
 
 - TJie Corbet Chronicles. 261 
 
 " So Jemima was right, after all," continued my 
 Lady : "right, I mean, in thinking that your mind 
 was fixed elsewhere. Not that I accuse you of 
 using any art or coquetry, so you need not flush so 
 angrily," she added, patting my cheek : " Marry, it 
 needs no coquetry in the candle, to make the 
 moths fly into it. Well, Margaret, I know not 
 what to say to this matter. My cousin hath 
 a right to please himself; and though you are 
 somewhat too young for him, I believe he hath 
 chosen wisely. His mother, I can see, is well 
 pleased, and I suppose yours will hardly make 
 any objection. Walter is a good man, though 
 grave and sombre at times, but I believe he will 
 make you a good husband. I think you, too, 
 have made a wise choice." 
 
 " If it please you, my Lady, I do not feel as if I 
 had made any choice," said I. " I cannot think 
 that one goes to work to choose a husband or wife 
 as one does a horse or a new gown. It seems to 
 me as if those things should be ordered by 
 Providence. I am sure I never chose to care for 
 Mr. Corbet. It came upon me unawares, and I 
 was as much surprised when I found it out as any 
 one could be." 
 
 " And suppose Mr. Corbet had not cared for 
 you, what then ?" asked my Lady. " Would you 
 then have gone on mourning all your days, 
 or would you have turned your affections on 
 another object ?" 
 
 "Neither, I think, my Lady," I answered. "I
 
 262 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 do not think a woman is to throw away her life, 
 because she cannot have her own way, and marry 
 the man she loves, like a petted child, which 
 flings away its bread, because it cannot have 
 sweetmeat thereon. And I think to marry the 
 man one did not love to spite the man one did 
 love, would be more foolish still. I think, in such 
 a case, I should try to take up my cross and bear 
 it as long as God saw fit, and seek to find my 
 comfort in helping and comforting others, and in 
 doing, as best I could, the work which was given 
 me to do in doing my duty in that state to which 
 He was pleased to call me." 
 
 "You are wondrous fond of that word 'duty,'" 
 said my Lady. 
 
 "I am," I answered. "It seems to me the 
 bravest and best word in the world. Our feelings 
 change with every wind that blows, and we are 
 wondrous apt to be mistaken about them; 
 but one's duty is usually plain, if not always 
 easy." 
 
 " You are a wondrous sensible girl for your age, 
 Margaret," said my Lady. 
 
 "I will write to them at homo that you say 
 so, my Lady!" I answered, laughing. " 'Twill be 
 greater news than the other." 
 
 " But the grand difficulty is to come," said my 
 Lady. " What think you my Lord will say ? You 
 know that Walter is the heir, and is like to succeed 
 to title and all, as things stand at present. Then, 
 should ought miscarry with me, or should my
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 263 
 
 Lord die without male issue, you would stand in 
 my shoes and be Lady Stanton." 
 
 "God forbid!" said I, as fervently as I felt. 
 " We both hope that may be changed after Michael- 
 mas, and I thought matters might rest till then." 
 
 " Perhaps that will be the best way," said my 
 Lady, after some consideration, " though I love not 
 secrets in the house. But, Margaret, bethink you 
 whether with that matter on your mind, you will 
 be able to do your duty by my child? Will not her 
 interests suffer ? And will you be content to meet 
 Walter as a stranger, or only as you have done 
 heretofore ?" 
 
 " As to Lady Betty, I believe I have never yet 
 neglected her, even when I have had the most on 
 my mind," said I. " You are the best judge of 
 that, my Lady. Have you seen any reason to be 
 dissatisfied with me ?" 
 
 " Surely not, sweetheart, but quite the contrary," 
 said my Lady, kindly. " The child is wonderfully 
 improved, and seems to gain health and strength 
 every day. You would be like to hear of it, if I 
 saw any fault." 
 
 " I hope so," said I : " and as to the rest, it must 
 bo as it happens. Mr. Corbet will be away in 
 London for a month or more, and by that time wo 
 shall see what will be the state of things." 
 
 My Lady kissed me at parting, and so the 
 matter ended. I do not believe I shall neglect my 
 duty to Betty. I love the child more and inoro 
 every day.
 
 264 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 September 14. 
 
 Madam Corbet lias given ine a beautiful present 
 namely, a gold locket containing a fair likeness 
 of her son, which he had painted when he was 
 abroad in the Low Countries. It has a gold chain 
 attached, and I wear it round iny neck under my 
 kerchief. 
 
 Having a chance to send to Exeter this day by 
 Mr. Penrose, I have written a long letter to mother, 
 for Mrs. Carey to send with her own to her son. 
 But this writing is cold work. I would I could kneel 
 down by her and tell her all. 
 
 The sick robin is getting well, and is very tame 
 and playful, perchirjg on Launce's back and pluck- 
 ing at his ears, to Betty's great delight, more than 
 to the poor dog's, but he takes all patiently, as he 
 would anything which pleased his mistress. Ho 
 has fairly made good his entrance into her heart, 
 and I believe she loves him quite as well as ever 
 she did Gill, though she will not own as much. I 
 can see that her father's hasty words still rankle 
 in her heart, though she never speaks of them 
 directly. 
 
 Yesterday eve, going down into the kitchen, I 
 found all the servants looking on with great inter- 
 est at a charm old Dame Penberthy was preparing, 
 to learn whether the new-comer was to be boy or 
 girl. She had found a stone with a hole therein, 
 which she was suspending by a string, and with 
 many ceremonies, over the door ; and the first per- 
 son who enters in the morning, whether man or
 
 The Corbet C/tro nicies. 265 
 
 woman, tells the sex of the babe. I told her of 
 our old country charm to the same effect, made by 
 burning a blade bone of mutton ; and as they had 
 one for supper, she must needs try that also. The 
 maids would have had her hang her charms over 
 some other door, because they said Peggy the 
 milkwoman was always the first one to enter the 
 kitchen ; but she said no, it must needs be the 
 kitchen door, and no other. 
 
 " What is the use of the pebble with a hole in 
 it?" asked Thomas, who is an old soldier, and a 
 bit of a Sadducee, I should fancy. " Why would 
 not any other stone do as well ?" 
 
 " Because it wont !" answered the dame, shortly. 
 " How can I tell why, any more than why one 
 who finds four-leaved clovers should always be 
 lucky?" 
 
 " Then should I be the luckiest person in the 
 world !" said I, " for I am always finding them." 
 
 " And so you are, and will be !" answered the old 
 dame, looking earnestly in my face. " 'Tis written 
 on your very forehead. Any one may see that you 
 have brought luck to this house, and so you will 
 to any house you enter." 
 
 " Many thanks, dame, for the prediction !" said 
 I. "Hethinks I shall never want happiness my- 
 self, in that case. But now I want to ask a favor 
 of you. I know there is no hand equal to yours in 
 clear-starching, and I want you to wash and do 
 up for me the robe I have been working for my 
 Ladv."
 
 266 Lady Betty s Governess. 
 
 " That I will that I will, dear heart !" said the 
 old woman, " and I hope I may live to do as 
 much for yourself, on the like joyful occasion !" 
 
 I made my escape at this, but as I left the room, 
 I heard Anne say, " That will you not, dame. Mrs. 
 Margaret scorns her suitor, and will have none of 
 him, though 'twould be a fine match for her." 
 
 " When the right one comes, she will not scorn 
 him!" Dame Penberthy answered; "she is no 
 common maid to snap at a lover like a trout at a 
 fly. She will marry well, I promise you, though 
 she will see trouble first." 
 
 This morning Mary told me, with great glee, 
 that the first person who came into the kitchen 
 was Boger, my Lord's groom; and I was silly 
 enough to be pleased likewise ; but Mrs. Brewster 
 was vexed, and said that trying such spells was 
 unlucky, and would bring ill-hap on child and 
 mother. I am sure I hope not.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 September 15. 
 
 have heard nothing from "Walter yet, 
 though it is full time. I cannot help 
 feeling uneasy. 
 
 Yesterday we had a visit from a 
 travelling bookseller, well known, as I learn, in 
 these parts. He seemed a man of more than 
 ordinary intelligence, and much gravity, and even 
 austerity of deportment. 
 
 " "Well, Master Blanchard," said my Lord, greet- 
 ing him heartily ; " what new play-books or 
 romances have you brought us this time?" 
 
 "Truly, but few new ones, my Lord," answered 
 Master Blanchard. " I like not the books of that 
 kind lately printed, so well as to make myself 
 very busy in spreading them abroad." 
 
 " I thought the Archbishop very careful in the 
 matter of licensing books," remarked my Lady. 
 
 " He is," answered the old man, dryly. " He 
 hath forbid the reprinting of 'Fox, his Book of 
 Martyrs,' and of the works of Bishop Jewell, 
 as well as of the 'Practise of Piety,' a book 
 
 (267)
 
 268 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 which lias gone through, no less than thirty-six 
 editions!" 
 
 "By my faith that is being particular 
 with a vengeance!" exclaimed my Lord. "Me- 
 thinks if all we hear be true, his grace might find 
 other things to forbid than the Practise of Piety. 
 "Why, my own mother used and loved that book 
 next to her Bible. I believe between the Papists 
 and the Puritans, the world hath gone stark 
 mad." 
 
 " It will be madder yet, or I am much mistaken," 
 said Master Blanchard. "I have good stoue of 
 paper and blank-books, if you need them, my Lord, 
 and some new music-books, and cards of patterns, 
 and the like, for the ladies." 
 
 We were all purchasers. I bought a new blank- 
 book and some paper, and my Lady gave me a 
 silver pen and a pretty fashioned inkstand, Betty 
 would needs buy a Bible and Prayer-book, as 
 christening gifts for her god-child. Lady Jemima 
 turned over the books of devotion and selected 
 two or three, though she made a very disapproving 
 face over some that she found there. 
 
 " But I cannot but think you are misinformed, 
 Master Blanchard," said my Lady. " Why should 
 the Archbishop forbid the printing of the Book of 
 Martyrs?" 
 
 " That is a question asked by many people, my 
 Lady," answered the old merchant. " I only know 
 the fact in the case. ? Tis certain the books are to 
 be printed no more, and they have risen in price
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 269 
 
 in consequence. Folks say it is all the Queen's 
 doing, but of that I know nothing." 
 
 " It was an evil chance that gave us a Papist 
 Queen !" said my Lord. " I say nothing against 
 the Lady herself, but 'twas a great pity." 
 
 "It gives the Papists great confidence," said 
 Master Blanchard. " They are holding up their 
 heads everywhere, and boasting of their favor with 
 the King, and of the great things they will do here- 
 after. For mine own part I would as soon have, 
 an Italian Pope as an English. But least said 
 soonest mended. I have Master Shakespeare's 
 Plays and some of Ben Johnson's, my Lord, if you 
 choose any of them." 
 
 I shall value my " Practise of Piety " more than 
 ever, now I know that the printing thereof is for- 
 bidden. I have begun to read it over again this 
 veiy night. 
 
 September 18. 
 
 We have had another travelling merchant, but 
 of quite a different sort from Master Blanchard. 
 This was a sharp, alert, and withal somewhat sly- 
 looking little man, profuse of his bows and com- 
 pliments, who brought ribbons, laces, and all sorts 
 of trinkets and perfumes. My Lord, who is in 
 high good humor about these days, would buy us 
 each a fairing, and he gave me a little ivory and 
 gilt box for sweetmeats a pretty and convenient 
 toy. 
 
 " Now must you have it filled," said the pedler,
 
 270 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 and taking it from my hand, and first laying in tho 
 bottom a piece of white paper, as it seemed, he 
 poured the box full of colored and perfumed com- 
 fits ; and then closing the lid, he put it back into 
 my hand with a look of intelligence which I did 
 not at all understand. 
 
 The mystery has explained itself since, in a very 
 disagreeable manner. I was going down to see a 
 little lame girl in the village, and thinking to 
 please the child, I poured all the comfits out of 
 my box on the table, and was about to take tho 
 paper in the bottom to wrap some of them in, 
 when looking at it, I discovered that it was a letter, 
 and addressed to myself. Very much astonished, 
 I opened it, and found it to be a regular love-letter, 
 written in the most ornate and flowing style, and 
 treating of broken hearts, flames, Cupid's arrows, 
 and the like, bewailing my cruelty to the sender, 
 and promising, if I would reconsider the matter, to 
 make it more to my advantage than anything 
 that had ever happened to me. Should I consent, 
 I was to send my answer by the bearer, who was 
 in the secret, and all should be managed with the 
 greatest discretion. This precious epistle was 
 signed " E. S." I was absolutely stunned for the 
 moment, and knew not what to do ; but presently 
 resolving, I carried the letter directly to my Lady, 
 in her own room, and begged her to read it, telling 
 her at the same time how it had come into my 
 hands. 
 
 " This is very strange," s;tid my Lady, her cheek
 
 77/6' Corbet Clironicles. 271 
 
 flushing as it does when she is displeased. " Have 
 you any idea as to the writer?" 
 
 " I have," said I ; " but as I do not know for cer- 
 tain, and have moreover no wish to know, perhaps 
 I had better not mention him." 
 "Do you mean Lord Saville?" asked my Lady, 
 and as I assented; "why should you think of 
 him ? Had he ought to say to you when he was 
 here?" 
 
 I told her what had chanced at the spring. 
 
 "And what did you say to him?" asked my 
 Lady, something sharply. " 1 fear you must have 
 given him some encouragement, or he would not 
 have ventured to write." 
 
 "I boxed his ears soundly, if that be any 
 encouragement," I answered, forgetting, I am afraid, 
 the respect due to my Lady in my vexation : " I 
 only wish I had boxed them harder still." 
 
 " So that was the history of his swollen cheek," 
 said my Lady, much amused. " Truly I think 
 you left not much to be desired in that way. And 
 how did you escape from this modern Amadis?" 
 
 I told her the farther history of the encounter, 
 adding that I should have spoken to her before, 
 only that I did not like to annoy her. 
 
 " Well, well ! I see no fault to find with your 
 conduct, on the whole," said my Lady : " though 
 'twas rather a rustical way of defending yourself. 
 However, I hardly know what you could have 
 done. I am heartily sorry for the whole matter 
 sorry that you should have been annoyed that
 
 Lad} 1 Betty 's Governess ; or, 
 
 my kinsman should have no more respect for mo 
 than to attempt an intrigue with one of my family, 
 and specially sorry, that Walter should have made 
 an enemy of him. Despite his gay and careless 
 manner, he hath a sullen and revengeful temper, and 
 is like to be a dangerous foe. I think you had best 
 keep quiet at home, Margaret, till this man leaves 
 the neighborhood. As for this precious missive, 
 we wall give it to the flames. You will make a 
 good wife, sweetheart, if you are as frank and open 
 with your husband as you have ever been with 
 me." 
 
 So I have kept close house ever since, having a 
 good excuse in the great rains. I am confident 
 I saw the pedler in the avenue last night, and as I 
 was going to bed, a pebble rattled against my 
 casement more than once. 
 
 I would not go near it, and Ban, the great mas- 
 tiff, scenting some disturbance, came barking and 
 baying round the corner in such savage sort, that 
 the intruder, whoever he was, beat a hasty retreat. 
 I begged of the cook a good bone for the old dog 
 this morning, and carried it to him with my own 
 hands. 
 
 September 19. 
 
 I ventured this morning to go down and see 
 Jenny Lee ; and walking on to Corby-End, whom 
 should I meet in the wood near the wicket-gate, 
 but this same pedler. I would not stop, however, 
 though he called to me, and even followed me on
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 273 
 
 the path, asking me in a fawning tone whether I 
 had no word for him. 
 
 " You are turning your back on your own good 
 fortune, my pretty lady," he said. "Could you 
 but see the lodging and apparel that awaits you, 
 you would change your tone. I pray you give me 
 a word for my master." 
 
 " I will give you this word, not for your master, 
 but yourself," said I, at last. " If you ever dare to 
 accost me again, I will tell my Lord and Mr. Pen- 
 rose of your practises, and have you set in the 
 village stocks for a vagrant and mischief-maker, as 
 you are." 
 
 The fellow was silent, and slunk out of sight. As 
 soon as I got home I threw all his comfits in the 
 fire, not knowing what charms might be contained 
 in them, though, I believe, a pure loving heart 
 that trusts in God, may set all charms and 
 enchantments at defiance. 
 
 It is very strange that we hear nothing from 
 Walter. 
 
 September 28. 
 
 I must write, if I cannot speak. Oh that I dared 
 tell the whole to my Lady, or to Madam Corbet, 
 my second mother ! 
 
 This morning I went down to the Cove to carry 
 some comforts to a sick woman Mr. Penrose had 
 been telling my Lady of, and after I had finished 
 my visit to her, I turned into Jan Lee's cottage. 
 I knocked, and the door was opened to me by Will 
 
 18
 
 274 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 Atkins, who greeted me with, such a perturbed 
 and anxious countenance as made me exclaim at 
 once : 
 
 " O "Will, have you any news of Walter, of Mr. 
 Corbet?" 
 
 " In sooth, I fear so, and that none of the best, 
 madam," answered "Will. Come iu, if you please, 
 and give us your advice how we shall deal with 
 the matter." 
 
 He gave me a chair as he spoke, and I sat down, 
 with a curious feeling of being in a kind of dream. 
 
 "I was over at Exeter yesterday," said Will, 
 " and there whom should I meet but Tom Andrews, 
 who you remember went away with Mr. Corbet. 
 At first, I could get naught out of him, save that 
 some great misfortune had happened to Walter ; so 
 dazed and muddled was he. But by questioning 
 him, I at last made out that his master had been 
 set upon one night, as he drew near to Salisbury, 
 by a party of highwaymen, and, as he believed, 
 murdered." 
 
 "You are too hasty, son Will !" exclaimed old 
 Jan, rising from his seat. " The young lady is 
 fainting." 
 
 " No, no !" I exclaimed, putting him back with 
 my hand ; " I am not fainting. Let me hear all, I 
 beseech you ! No one has a better right than I." 
 
 Will then went on with his tale.. He said he 
 had questioned and cross-questioned the man, 
 and had at last discovered that Tom did not stay 
 to see the end of the fray, but had hastened to
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 276 
 
 save his own neck, and had then been ashamed to 
 show himself. He told a great story of the 
 number and strength of the assailants, and was 
 quite sure that Mr. Corbet and John must have 
 gone down among them. 
 
 " And now the question is, what shall we do with 
 this tale ?" concluded "Will. " I shah 1 myself ride 
 post at once toward London and try to discover 
 the truth or falsehood of Tom's story, which I do 
 not half believe. What shah 1 we do in the mean 
 time about Madam and my Lady ? The story 
 may not be true, and then they would have all the 
 alarm and suspense for nothing, and it would be ill 
 for my Lady." 
 
 " You are right !" said I. " She must not know 
 it but how to keep it from her, and from his 
 mother ! Have you told any one here ?" 
 
 " Nobody," answered Will. " I have but just 
 now come home, and was consulting with my father 
 as to the best way of dealing with the matter. He 
 is disposed to treat the whole as an idle tale, 
 made up by Tom to shield himself, and believes 
 that Walter hath dismissed him for some misde- 
 meanor." 
 
 " Master Watty never should have taken him," 
 said the old man, " and so I told him. 'Tis a poor 
 rascal and comes of a poor stock, but Watty must 
 needs try to make a man of him. 'Tis always his 
 way, ever trying to make whistles out of pigs' 
 tails!" 
 
 <( I will make him whistle to purpose, if he has
 
 276 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 put such a lie upon us," answered "Will, grimly; 
 " but I fear there is more in the matter than mere 
 lying. That fine lord who was here last month 
 was no friend to Walter. They have crossed each 
 other's path more than once before this last time, 
 and it would be quite in his way to hire bravos or 
 highwaymen to execute the vengeance he dare not 
 attempt himself. He hath lived in Italy long 
 enough to learn all their tricks. But we lose 
 time in talking." 
 
 " What do you mean to do ?" I asked, still with 
 the same strange, dreamy feeling, as if the matter 
 concerned somebody else and not myself. 
 
 "I shall take horse at once, and ride toward 
 Salisbury," answered Will Atkins. "I can easily 
 find out by inquiring at the inns whether Mr. Corbet 
 hath been there within a month. He is well-known 
 on the road, and always uses the same houses." 
 
 " But you will not go alone ?" I said. 
 
 " No, David Lee will ride with me, I am sure, 
 and I must go to him for a horse." 
 
 " And for money. Have you money enough ?" I 
 asked, putting my hand in my pocket. It is 
 curious to me now to consider how cool I was. I 
 seemed to think of everything at once. 
 
 "I have a plenty for my purpose, Madam, 1 ' 
 answered Will. "But you look very pale, and 
 your hand trembles," he added, as a blink of sun 
 shone in on my face. 
 
 "I fear the keeping this matter a secret, will be 
 a task beyond your strength !"
 
 Tke Corbet Chronicles'. 277 
 
 " No, no !" I answered, hastily. " I can do 
 whatever is necessary. I shall have help, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Aye, that she will !" said old Jan. " I can see 
 it in her face. They call women the weaker 
 vessels, but they ever seem to me the stronger, 
 when there is anything to be borne. But 'tis 
 hard the burden should be laid upon her, poor 
 young maid ! 
 
 Will looked at me with such a penetrating yet 
 puzzled glance, that I thought best to tell him all, 
 knowing that Walter hath no nearer or warmer 
 friend than this his foster-brother and old play- 
 mate. 
 
 " I am betrothed to Mr. Corbet," said I ; " we do 
 not make the matter public as yet, but his mother 
 and my Lady are in the secret. You see, I 
 have the best right to know everything, and to 
 help" 
 
 But here, for the first time, I broke down, and 
 sobbed hysterically. 
 
 No woman could be more tender in her minis- 
 trations than the old sailor, and when I recovered 
 myself, which I did presently, he opened some 
 secret nook and brought out a bottle of wine, of 
 which he would have me take a glass, and indeed 
 T was glad to do so. 
 
 " My Lord hath none such in his cellars," said 
 he, with some pride. 
 
 "'Tis Canary, which hath made the voyage to 
 South America. M.arry, the Bishop who carried it
 
 278 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 over to St. Jago for his own drinking, little 
 guessed whose palate it would regale !" 
 
 "Tis strange to myself how I remember and write 
 down all these trifles. I seem to find therein a 
 kind of comfort and relief. 
 
 My Lady noticed my pale looks at supper, and 
 asked me if my head ached again, for ever since 
 the fall of the candlestick, I have been subject to 
 hard headaches. I told her it did, which was true 
 enough, and she bade me go to rest early, and not 
 rise in the morning unless I felt able. But I can- 
 not rest. Oh that I had some one to whom I 
 could tell all ! And so I have. Faithless that I 
 am, is there not One who knows all, who has 
 promised help and comfort according to our needs, 
 aud in whose all-powerful hands my Walter is, and 
 must bo safe, wherever he is. He cannot go out 
 of God's sight. We are both His children, and love 
 Him, and so all things must needs be well with him, 
 however hard and bitter they may seem now. 
 Oh, how thankful I am that I have learned before 
 this great trouble came upon me to regard my 
 Maker, no longer as a hard taskmaster, exacting 
 so much for so much, but as a kind, tender, loving 
 Father. 
 
 "He that spared not His own Son" His own 
 Son! 
 
 Feast of St. Michael. September 29. 
 I have been to church to-day, and feel wondrous- 
 ly comforted and soothed thereby. It seemed at
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 279 
 
 first as if I could not go as if my service would bo 
 only a mockery, and a lip-service : but Betty wished 
 to go, and I knew what my duty was. She hath 
 become very fond of going to church, and my Lord 
 no longer puts any obstacle in the way. 
 
 Her deformity is not nearly so noticeable now 
 that she is stronger and sits up straighter, and she 
 grows pretty every day, while her aptness and 
 quick replies make her an amusing companion, 
 even to her father. I think he will end with being 
 very fond of her, unless some new influence 
 should come in the way. I earnestly hope so, for 
 the poor child loves him with an intensity painful 
 to see, and far more than he deserves. It is a 
 different kind of affection from the quiet, trustful 
 love she bestows on her mother, and in a some- 
 what less degree, on me. Any chance careless 
 word of his and there are plenty of them cuts 
 her to the heart ; and any instance of thoughtful- 
 ness or affection makes her happy for all day. 
 My Lord is fond of chess ; though, with reverence 
 be it said, he is about the worst player I ever saw, 
 and I have to play my best to ensure his beating 
 me now and then : and I am teaching Betty to 
 play. The more of a companion she can be to him, 
 the better for her in the event of anything happen- 
 ing to my Lady. 
 
 There was but a small congregation in church, 
 as usually happens on a holiday. Lady Jemima 
 was there, kneeling on the stone floor, and did 
 not oven look up as wo came in. Madam Corbet was
 
 280 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 also present, as indeed she never misses a church 
 service, and old Mistress Parnell. It was pretty 
 to see Mr. Penrose hand the old lady to her place 
 before going into the vestry. Mrs. Priscilla Fulton 
 was present, and, methought, Mr. Penrose did 
 send a glance in that direction. 
 
 I found the service as ever, so now in my greatest 
 need, wonderfully soothing and comforting. The 
 words seemed just what I needed more to the 
 purpose than any words of mine own could be. 
 They always seem to me to be hallowed, and as it 
 were perfumed by the devotions of all the thou- 
 sands who have used them in the ages past. I am 
 sure no prayers composed on the spur of the 
 moment, such as they say the Puritans are wont 
 to use, w r ould be as grateful to me as these. I 
 could not be sure that another and a stranger 
 would express my wants nay, he might, even as 
 poor Mr. Prynne used, I know say what would 
 seem to me downright irreverent and untrue. I 
 should have to hear, and in a manner criticise 
 every sentence, before joining in it. Of course 
 this does not apply to private prayer, though even 
 there I find myself constantly falling back on the 
 well-known and familiar psalms and collects, espe- 
 cially when my feelings are most strongly excited. 
 I must begin to teach Betty the collects. 
 
 I could not forbear weeping during the prayers, 
 but my tears were a relief, and I rose up feel- 
 ing much more hopeful than when I went to 
 church. Mr. Penrose read the whole of the invi ta-
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 281 
 
 tion to the Communion, on Sunday. I wish it were 
 old Doctor Parnell. Then indeed I could go to him 
 and open my grief ; but I cannot, for many reasons, 
 make a confidant of Mr. Penrose. O that dear 
 mother were within my reach ! Sure 'tis a hard 
 fate which sends a young maid away from her 
 mother, at my age. And yet I ought not to say 
 so, considering the many kind friends I have met 
 here. Then, too, I should not have known Walter. 
 However this matter may turn, I shall always 
 rejoice and be thankful that we understood each 
 other before he left home. How much worse 
 would the suspense be to me now, if I did not feel 
 sure that he loves me and thinks of me, wherever 
 he is. 
 
 Lady Jemima never rose from her knees during 
 the whole service ; and just at the end she fainted 
 and sunk down on the floor. We got her into the 
 air, and by-and-by she revived, only to burst into 
 hysterical tears and sobs. I was glad the rectory 
 was close by, where she could take refuge from 
 gazers. It turned out presently that she had eaten 
 nothing since noon the day before. I would have 
 had her ride home on Betty's donkey, but she 
 refused, yet with more kindness than she hath 
 lately shown me, saying that the walk would do 
 her good. 
 
 She appeared at supper, as usual, though she 
 looked pale and worn. "Brother," said she, 
 presently, "when do you mean to have a new 
 chaplain?"
 
 282 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 "Not at all, as I know of!" said niy Lord: 
 " why should I ? Peurose is a good fellow enough, 
 for all his crotchets, and a gentleman beside. You 
 thought there was nobody like him when he first 
 came here." 
 
 " He hath changed very much since he came 
 here," answered Lady Jemima. "He is not the 
 same man at all, and I have no trust in him. I 
 want a spiritual guide and director one in whom 
 I can place confidence." 
 
 " That is to say, you want a guide who will be 
 guided by you !" said my Lord, shrewdly. " What 
 is the use of a spiritual director if you only mean 
 to be guided by him just so long as your notions 
 happen to square with his own ? 
 
 " But if by a man in whom you can place con- 
 fidence, you mean one who will not fall in love 
 with Margaret, I had best look out for one who 
 hath a handsome young wife of his own. Here 
 hath been Basil Champernoun, with his grave face, 
 asking me about the young lady's family, and so 
 forth. I doubt he is looking out for a stepmother 
 to those black girls of his, and I dare say Wat 
 Corbet, with his Puritan ways, will be the next, if 
 indeed he hath not fallen under the enchantment 
 already !" 
 
 Lady Jemima shot at me a glance o? absolute 
 fire, but did not speak, while my Lady said, 
 gently : 
 
 " It is hardly fair to put Margaret to the blush 
 in this way, my Lord. I am sure nobody could be
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 283 
 
 more circumspect than she, or take less pains to 
 attract admiration." 
 
 "Oh, she does not care!" answered my Lord, 
 carelessly. "She knows my ways. Sure 'tis no 
 shame for a maiden to have admirers, especially 
 when she is, as you truly say, so circumspect and 
 prudent as Margaret. I verily think she cares 
 more for Betty's little finger than for all of them." 
 
 So all ended well. But, as I recalled the look 
 that Lady Jemima bestowed upon me, I cannot 
 but wonder whether she herself hath any thought 
 of Walter. I am sure she hath something on her 
 mind which makes her very unhappy. 
 
 October 1. 
 
 My Lady sent me down early this morning to 
 ask Mrs. Corbet for a pattern. I found her re- 
 joicing over letters from Walter, sent from 
 about Illchester, where he had stopped a day to 
 see some friends of Sir John Elliott's and his own. 
 They were gravely cheerful, as usual, and there 
 was one for me, which I put in my bosom unread. 
 I dared not trust myself to read it under his 
 mother's eye when I thought it might be, perhaps, 
 the last of him that I should ever see. She asked 
 me kindly of my health, and on my telling her that 
 my head troubled me again, she pressed on me a 
 little flask of distilled and rectified vinegar, very 
 pungent and refreshing, as well as a bottle of some 
 strong sweet water, wherewith to bathe my temples 
 and forehead. If she knew what I know but I am
 
 284 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 glad she does not. I should suffer none the less 
 because she suffered the more. Coming home, I 
 found the church door open, so I went in and spent 
 a few minutes quietly in prayer, and in reading the 
 ninetieth and ninty-first psalms. I wish it were 
 the custom here, as they say it is abroad, to keep 
 the church always open. Surely many, especially 
 of the poor, who have no place of retirement at 
 home, would gladly resort thither now and then 
 for devotion. Methinks there is something in the 
 very air of the place which disposes one to a quiet 
 and worshipping frame of mind. 
 
 "When I got home, and could be alone, I read 
 my letter a long one, full of goodness and love 
 how precious none can tell. Oh, could I but cer- 
 tainly know that he was safe and well ! 
 
 Lady Jemima met me in the gallery, and after 
 passing me, she came back and said, abruptly 
 enough : 
 
 "You have been down to Corby-End, I hear. 
 Have they any news of "Walter of Mr. Corbet ?" 
 
 " His mother had letters this morning, written at 
 Illchester, my Lady," I answered. " Mr. Corbet 
 was well when he wrote, but the letters have been 
 a long time on the way." 
 
 " Aye, no doubt you know all about the matter !" 
 said she, with a kind of scornful bitterness. Then 
 with a sudden change of tone, " Margaret, tell me 
 what you do to make everybody like you ?" 
 
 " I don't think I do anything, madam," I an- 
 swered : " and besides every one does not like me.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 285 
 
 You yourself are my enemy, though I know not 
 why, for I have never willingly or knowingly injured 
 you : yet you are ready to believe every evil report 
 about me, and to put the worst construction on all 
 I say or do or have done, for that matter." 
 
 She colored deeply. " You are too free !" said 
 she, austerely. " You forget yourself very much 
 when you speak thus to me." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, madam !" I answered. " I 
 meant not to be so. You asked the question, and 
 I answered it." 
 
 " Well, well, let it pass !" she said, impatiently. 
 " What is this I hear from my brother about Mr. 
 Champernoun and yourself ?" 
 
 " I have heard nothing more about the matter," 
 I replied. " I think it was only one of my Lord's jests. 
 Mr. Champernoun hath never seen me except in 
 church, and when the Bishop was here, and I have 
 never so much as exchanged a word with him." 
 
 " He is an excellent man, and it would be a 
 match far above anything you have a right to ex- 
 pect," she continued : " and you might make 
 yourself very useful as stepdame to his little daugh- 
 ters. I advise you to accept his offer !" 
 
 " Time enough for that when he makes it, my 
 Lady !" I answcred,laughing in spite of my vexation. 
 "For me, I am quite content as I am for the 
 present. I do not believe Mr. Champernoun ever 
 thought of such a thing !" With which I made 
 my escape. 
 
 Betty's tame robin flew away this morning.
 
 286 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 She shed some tears at first, but finally said it was 
 natural the poor bird should love the woods and 
 fields best, adding, sadly enough, " I am sure I 
 would fly away, if I could." 
 
 " And leave me?" I asked. 
 
 " No, I would take you with me !" she said : " and 
 I would not fly away to stay either, but would 
 come back after a while after I had seen the 
 world." 
 
 " Perhaps your bird may come back," said I ; 
 and sure enough, at sunset, the little creature came 
 pecking at the casement, and being let in, flew to 
 his favorite place on Betty's shoulder, and showed 
 great joy at seeing her again. I was as well 
 pleased as the child to see the truant return. 
 I believe I had made a kind of omen of it. 
 
 I dreamed last night of a great fall of snow, and 
 telling my dream to Dame Yeo, she tells me that 
 snow out of season means trouble without reason, 
 and shows that I am or soon shall be fretting my- 
 self about some matter without cause. I am sure 
 I hope it is so, but I am no great believei in 
 dreams. 
 
 October 3. 
 
 This day brought me two letters, or rather three 
 one from Dick enclosing a note from dear mother. 
 They are all well at home, though mother says 
 there is fever in the place, and that two have died 
 out of Eobert Smith's family. She also tells me, 
 what I am sorry to hear, that Sir Peter Beaumont
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 287 
 
 hath prosecuted John Edwards for holding a con- 
 venticle in his house. 
 
 It seems several of the neighbors have been in 
 the habit of assembling there to worship, at which 
 time they prayed and spoke to each other on re- 
 ligious subjects, but all in a quiet way. Mr. Carey 
 would have nothing to do with the matter, and 
 was much vexed at Sir Peter's taking it up, saying 
 that it was the next way to make the thing popular, 
 to make martyrs of the promoters thereof: and 
 sure enough the parish is in arms about it, some 
 taking one side and some the other. I am veiy 
 sorry. We were all so quiet and peaceable in my 
 dear father's time. Methinks Sir Peter would better 
 show his zeal for religion and the church, by leav- 
 ing off drinking and swearing, and some other worse 
 matters, than by hunting out prayer meetings and 
 the like. I remember John Edwards was a very 
 strict Calvinist, and he and my father used to have 
 many arguments, but they always ended pleasantly, 
 however much heat John Edwards might fall into. 
 
 My father never lost his temper, which I fancy 
 gave him somewhat the advantage. At any rate 
 John Edwards was a good friend to us, and always 
 remembered us when his Warden pears were 
 gathered, we having none of that sort. I am 
 heartily sorry for this trouble which hath befallen 
 him. 
 
 My other letter I did not at all understand, 
 at the first. It purported to be from a lady of 
 quality residing near Exeter, who said she had
 
 288 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 heard of me by Mrs. Carey, and wishing to engage 
 me at a liberal salary twice as much as I have 
 here to act as companion to herself and her 
 daughter, promising to treat me in all respects as 
 an equal. If I consented to come, she said, she 
 desired I would not mention the affair to my Lady, 
 between whom and the writer there was an old feud, 
 arising out of family matters, and who would be 
 sure to prejudice me against her ; but I was to ask 
 leave to go to Exeter on some errand of mine own, 
 where I would be met and conducted to the gentle- 
 woman's house. 
 
 I thought this a very dishonorable way of 
 proceeding, and what of itself would be enough 
 to set me against the author of the letter, but I 
 thought of nothing more till all at once it did seem 
 to me that the writing was familiar. It happened 
 that I had preserved the cover of Lord Saville's 
 first letter to me, and on comparing the hands, 
 they were clearly the same, though the last was a 
 little disguised. Then I carried the letter at 
 once to my Lady. 
 
 "Margaret," said she, after she had read ifc 
 through, " this letter is not genuine. I know no 
 such gentlewoman as the person signing it, nor do 
 I think it to be in a woman's hand." 
 
 "Nor I, my Lady," said I, "for the best ol 
 reasons :" and with that I showed her the cover of 
 the other letter. "I believe it to be a wicked 
 trap ; but it is very hard " And then my voice 
 failed me and I burst into tears. It did seem very
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 289 
 
 hard that with all my other troubles, I should be 
 so persecuted : and though sure of mine own 
 innocence and right dealing, I could not but 
 feel very much humbled and degraded in mine 
 own eyes. 
 
 "It is very hard !" said my Lady, " and it must 
 be stopped. I will myself write to my kinsman 
 and see if this persecution cannot be put an end 
 to at once. You have done well in showing me 
 this letter, Margaret, and you will always do well 
 so long as you are thus open and truthful." 
 
 Then she asked me about my other letter, and 
 was kindly interested, as usual, in my news from 
 home : but seeing me still sad, she kissed me, and 
 bade me not to fret over the other matter, saying 
 that all would come right in time. 
 
 "Unless I see you more cheerful," said she, 
 smiling somewhat sadly, " I must perforce release 
 you from your engagement and marry you and 
 Walter out of hand so soon as he returns. I like 
 not these long engagements." 
 
 Oh, how my heart sank, as my dear Lady said 
 these kind words. 
 
 "You are not looking well yourself, my Lady," 
 said I, feeling as if I must say something, and 
 indeed she was not. 
 
 "I am not well," she answered, wearily. "My 
 head is heavy, and I have a sinking of the spirits, 
 such as I never felt before in all my life. I do not 
 sleep well, and I dream constantly of my mother 
 and of my dead children. It is well that I have 
 
 19
 
 290 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 no real cause of trouble or anxiety," she added. 
 " I think I should sink under it, if I had." 
 
 Oh, how glad I was that I had borne my burden 
 myself alone. Hard as it has been, and is, I am 
 thankful that I have had the strength to keep it 
 all to myself. I believe the alarm and suspense 
 might have made all the difference to my Lady. 
 And 'tis certain I have been wonderfully helped. 
 Never in all my life have I had such a sense of the 
 nearness of God and of His goodness and love to 
 me, as during this trouble. I have felt I say it 
 with all reverence such a freedom with Him 
 such an ability to go to Him, not only with all my 
 trouble and anxiety, but with all my fretfulness 
 and rebellion, and impatience, yea and faithless- 
 ness, for I have been Tery faithless at some 
 times. 
 
 October 6. 
 
 " Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh 
 in the morning." For two or three days, life hath 
 seemed to me merely an intolerable burden. It 
 was as if I had carried my load till my strength 
 was spent to the last ounce, and I must lay it down 
 or die. I could scarce attend to my ordinary 
 duties or collect myself enough to answer a simple 
 question ; and I felt so irritable and fretful that I 
 longed to shut myself up and see or speak to no 
 one. Doubtless it was well for me that I could not 
 do so, but had iny work to occupy me even more 
 than usual ; for Betty herself hath not been well,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 291 
 
 and Lath shown more of her old exacting and 
 fractious spirit than I have seen in a long time. 
 Last night I said to her, " Lady Betty, cannot you 
 help being so peevish and fretful ? Do you know 
 you almost wear me out?" 
 
 " Do I ?" asked the child, as if surprised. " I 
 did not know I was peevish, Margaret ; but I feel 
 so tired and uncomfortable." 
 
 " And so do I feel tired and uncomfortable," I 
 answered ; " and I have a headache, beside ; but 
 you would not like me to be as unkind to you as 
 you are to me. -Such conduct does not make you 
 feel any better, does it ?" 
 
 "I don't know," she said, pondering, instead of 
 sa} T ing yes or no at once, as any othe^ child would. 
 " Sometimes I think it does. But then that would 
 not be any excuse, would it, Margaret ?" 
 
 "I think not," said I. "Beside that I don't 
 believe it does you any good. The more you 
 allow yourself to speak crossly and impatiently, 
 the easier it is to be cross and impatient next 
 time." 
 
 "Well, I will try to be good," she answered, 
 drawing a long breath ; but oh, Margaret, you 
 don't know how hard it is !" 
 
 " Indeed I do, sweetheart !" I said, kissing her 
 upturned face. " I'll tell you what, I don't believe 
 it is one bit harder for } r ou than it is for me." 
 
 She seemed a little comforted at that, and pre- 
 sently went to sleep, and I escaped to my room, 
 feeling almost desperate. I was ready to say with
 
 292 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 the wicked man in the Scripture, " What profit 
 shall we have if we pray unto Him !" my pray- 
 ers of late had seemed so destitute of any 
 real devotion, and had seemed to bring me so 
 little help. Still I knew it was not right to 
 neglect them, however I might feel ; so, it being 
 Friday night, I said the Litany, as my custom is. 
 At the prayer "for ah 1 who travel by land or water," 
 I surprised myself by bursting into tears and weep- 
 ing freely, and my heart seemed to be a little light- 
 ened of the intolerable weight which lay upon it. 
 
 I slept well, and arose feeling somewhat re- 
 freshed in body, and under a strange calmness of 
 spirit, such as I never felt under any trouble before. 
 I seemed, without any effort of mine own, to be 
 settled upon the ground of God's unchanging love, 
 and to be made sure that all would be well, how- 
 ever He should see fit to order the matter. 
 
 After breakfast my Lady came in to stay with 
 Betty, bringing her work, and telling me to go out 
 for a long walk, to refresh myself. I was only too 
 glad to do so, and bent my steps to Corby-End. 
 As I entered Madam's room, I found her just 
 opening a great packet of letters, while Will Atkins 
 stood at the side of the fire. The first look at his 
 face told me that he brought naught but good 
 news, which Madam confirmed, looking up with 
 her sweet smile at the moment of my entrance, and 
 saying : 
 
 " You see I am well employed, dear heart. I have 
 at last news from London of my runaway boy !"
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 293 
 
 The sudden relief overcame me, as the trouble 
 had never done, and I sank down and swooned clear 
 away a thing I never did in all my life before. 
 "When I opened mine eyes again, I was lying on 
 the couch, and Prudence was fussing over me with 
 hartshorn and burnt feathers, and what not. 
 
 She is better now !" said Madam's tender voice: 
 " leave her to me, good Prudence, and by and by 
 bring some little refreshment." 
 
 "When Prudence was gone, I raised my head, 
 and said, dreamily enough, I believe, for I was still 
 -bewildered : " Did Will bring news from Walter 
 from London. Was he not killed, after all ?" 
 
 "Killed!" said Madam. "No, dear love! 
 What put that fancy in your head? Walter is 
 safe and well, and sends you a packet by Will. 
 Come now, and be a brave maid, and we will see 
 v/hat he says." 
 
 I gathered together my scattered senses at this, 
 perceiving that Madam had not yet heard the story. 
 After saying how glad he was to see Will, and to have 
 his company to London, Walter went on to add : 
 
 " But I am sorry he should have been so misled 
 by that miserable coward, Tom Andrews, as to 
 come on such a bootless errand ; and sorry, above 
 all, that my dearest Margaret should have had to 
 bear such a burden of anxiety." 
 
 " What means that?" said Madam, pausing, and 
 coking perplexed. 
 
 " Perhaps we shall see, if we read on," I an- 
 swered. So she read on :
 
 294 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 " It was true, indeed, as Andrews told Will, that 
 I was set upon near Salisbury by a party of vil- 
 lains, but as Andrews ran away at the very begin* 
 ning of the fray, he had no chance to see how it 
 ended. We were the better armed and mounted, 
 and though they outnumbered us, we soon beafc 
 them off, with the gift to one of them, at least, of a 
 broken arm. I would not say it publicly, but I 
 verily believe the man I shot was the Italian who 
 was lately in attendance on one who shall be 
 nameless, at Stanton Court. However, I have 
 spoiled his sport for one while, I fancy. Pray 
 convey news to Margaret at once, my dear mother. 
 Poor maid, how she hath been suffering all this 
 time, though I doubt not her stout heart hath 
 kept her up through all." 
 
 " And so you have been going about all this 
 time, bearing this heavy burden all alone !" said 
 Madam : " and all to save me from bootless 
 anxiety ! Dear heart, how could you do so ?" 
 
 " It seemed my duty," I answered. " Your 
 anxiety would not have relieved mine, and I feared 
 the news reaching my Lady's ears. She is far 
 from well, and a little matter might make a differ- 
 ence with her." 
 
 "But all alone!" said Madam, again, "and a 
 young maid like you !" 
 
 " Not quite alone," I answered, smiling. " Alone, 
 I could never have endured it." 
 
 She clasped me in her arms, kissing and weep- 
 ing over me, and calling me her dear, brave maid,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 295 
 
 her dear stout-hearted, good daughter, with many 
 other kind words, more than I deserved, but which 
 made me very happy, nevertheless. Then we 
 finished reading the letter, which was long and 
 very interesting, containing much public news, 
 and that not of a pleasant kind ; but I could not 
 let it make me unhappy. 
 
 Madam would have me eat and drink before I 
 jeft her, and I was glad to do so, for I had not 
 broken my fast that day. I could not forbear 
 opening my letter and glancing at it as I walked 
 home, through the wood; and so doing, I ran 
 against Mr. Penrose, who was coming down the path. 
 
 "Good news wont keep, eh, Mrs. Margaret!" 
 said he, smiling at my confusion. "I wish you 
 joy of your letters from home !" 
 
 He is much more free and brotherly with me 
 than he used to be, for which I arn very glad. I 
 can't but think Priscilla Fnlton hath something 
 to do with this change. I did not think it needful 
 to tell him that my letters were not from home. 
 
 As I was going on, he called me back ; much to 
 niy annoyance. 'Twas to ask mo whether I had 
 ever held any conversation with Damo Yeo on 
 religious matters ? I told him how I had read to 
 her, and that we had talked over what I had read, 
 adding, what was quite time, that she had cheered 
 me up, and done me a great deal of good. 
 
 He shook his head. " I know not what to say," 
 said he. " I cannot but fear she is in a very dan- 
 gerous way."
 
 296 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 ""Why?" I asked, surprised; "she always 
 seemed to nie one of the best Christians in the 
 world." 
 
 " I fear she is guilty of the sin of presumption 1" 
 said he. " She says she knows her sins are for- 
 given, and that she is accepted of God." 
 
 "Well," I answered "why not? Don't you 
 read in the church every day that 'He pardoneth 
 and absolveth all those who truly repent and 
 unfeignedly believe His holy Gospel'? and does 
 not our Lord say, ' He that believeth on me, hath 
 everlasting life, and shall never come into con- 
 demnation ' ?" 
 
 " 'Tis true !" said he ; " but yet " 
 
 " I can't stop to talk to you about it now," I 
 said ; " my Lady will be waiting for me ; but, Mr. 
 Penrose, I don't believe our Lord intends his dear 
 children shall walk through the world with a rope 
 round their necks, as it were. He tells us to 
 rejoice evermore, and that because our names are 
 written iu heaven !" 
 
 " You believe in the doctrine of final persever- 
 ance ?" said ho, turning back and walking with me. 
 
 "I know naught of theological terms," I an- 
 swered him ; " but when I feel God's grace 
 enough for me to-day, why should I distress my- 
 self for fear I should not have it to-morrow, or 
 next week, or next year? We are taught to ask 
 daily bread for daily needs, and why not daily 
 grace ? I see no presumption in taking our Lord 
 at His word."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 297 
 
 " But how can you know that you love Him, or 
 that your faith is sufficient ?" he persisted, still 
 going on by my side. 
 
 " As I know anything else," I answered. " How- 
 do I know that I am glad to get my letter ? I 
 don't need any deep self-examination to find that 
 out, I trow !" 
 
 " Nor I !" said Mr. Penrose. It needs only to 
 look at your face. But we will talk of this matter 
 again." 
 
 And so, to my relief, he turned and left me, with 
 a kind good morning. He is far more patient of 
 contradiction or opposition than he used to be. 
 He formerly seemed to resent my having any 
 opinions of mine own in such matters. I hope ho 
 will not go teasing Dame Yeo with his notions, 
 though, indeed, I believe the old woman is quite 
 able to hold her own with him. 
 
 I only glanced at my letter, reserving that and 
 the contents of the package for the time when I 
 should be alone ; but though I knew my Lady was 
 waiting, I did steal a few minutes for a fervent 
 thanksgiving. 
 
 When I went into the nursery, my Lady smiled, 
 and said, in her usual kind way, but with a touch 
 of gentle malice : 
 
 " You must have found your walk pleasant, 
 Margaret ?" 
 
 " I fear I have been gone too long, my Lady," I 
 answered. "I went to Corby-End, and Madam 
 detained me a little."
 
 298 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 " Oh !" said my Lady, significantly. " Well, 
 what is the news at Corby-End? Hath my 
 cousin any tidings of her son ?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady," I answered. " Will Atkins is 
 returned, and has brought a great package of 
 letters to Madam, and some to my Lord, I believe, 
 as well." 
 
 " Oh !" said my Lady, again ; " and doubtless 
 Master Walter is well. When does he mean to 
 return ?" 
 
 " In about a month," I told her. 
 
 " I wish Walter would come home !" said Betty, 
 a little plaintively. " It is not nearly so nice going 
 out riding and walking, when I know he is not 
 here, and there is no use in expecting him. We 
 used to meet him so often, didn't we, Margaret ? 
 Mamma, what are you laughing at, and why does 
 Margaret blush so ?" 
 
 " Never mind, Betty," answered my Lady, com- 
 posing her face. " Little maidens should not ask 
 too many questions." 
 
 Betty looked far from satisfied, but she never 
 disputes her mother's commands. 
 
 When I had time to open Walter's package, I 
 found it contained, among other keepsakes, a small 
 thin volume of poems by Mr. John Milton, and a 
 email but beautifully bound and printed praj'er- 
 book. " I know you have one already," Walter 
 writes : " but it pleases my fancy to think of you 
 vising this book, which is besides of a convenient 
 size for your pocket. I think you will like the
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 299 
 
 poems. I bold not with Mr. Milton in all things, 
 but he has more of the true poetic fire than any 
 other man in this age." 
 
 Walter says public affairs are very discouraging. 
 The King, wholly governed by his wife and his 
 own arbitrary temper, vexing and oppressing the 
 subjects with monopolies, and all other little 
 provoking exactions. The Archbishop punishing 
 with the utmost rigor all innovations, as he calls 
 them, in religion, yet daily making more than any 
 one else, and, as it is believed, urging on the 
 king Wentworth in Ireland pressing his scheme 
 of thorough, and as many think favoring the Papists 
 against the Protestants. I can see that Walter 
 feels greatly discouraged, and fears some great 
 disasters both to Church and State. He says 
 there is a new sort of people risen up, who call 
 themselves "Independents," and believe in a 
 toleration of all men, except it may be Papists 
 and that they have some strong men among 
 them. He says he does not believe the Arch- 
 bishop to be altogether a bad man, but that he is 
 weak and arbitrary two things which he believes 
 often go together and very narrow-minded ; and 
 he says, what I do believe to be true, that foolish 
 people often do more harm in the world than 
 downright wicked people. He says, also, that the 
 Archbishop's innovations are not usually in mat- 
 ters of any great importance, only in vestments, 
 postures, decorations, and the like, which 
 makes it the more provoking that they should be
 
 3OO Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 so pressed upon people as matters of conscience 
 and religion. The two things which have made 
 him the most unpopular, Walter thinks, are the 
 reviving and promoting the book of Sunday Sports, 
 and the forbidding preachers to handle certaic 
 points of doctrine, as predestination and the like, on 
 which the Calvinists lay great stress: and that 
 these two have alienated the minds and hearts of 
 many who were well affected, nay, deeply attached 
 to the Church. Then the growing luxury and laxity 
 of the Court for though the King is a grave and 
 religious prince himself, he does not scruple to em- 
 ploy and forward men of the most openly bad lives, 
 and of course that has its influence ; and because 
 the Puritans practise great strictness and purity of 
 morals, the younger men of the Court party affect 
 just the opposite; so that it is coming to be the 
 mark of a fine gentleman to swear, cast dice, and 
 drink, not to speak of worse matters. Truly the 
 nation is in evil case. 
 
 "Walter's letter was very long, and contained 
 much beside politics. I must not forget to say 
 that he sent me a watch which is a toy I have 
 always longed for. This one is incased in gold, 
 and is smaller and prettier than any I have ever 
 seen. "Walter bought it of a French artisan, a very 
 ingenious man, and one of the persecuted Protes- 
 tants who came hither from France. It does seem 
 cruel and shameful that they should not be 
 allowed to fiud rest even here, but should have
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 301 
 
 their worship and the education of their children 
 interfered with. 
 
 October 7. 
 
 Madam Corbet sent up the letters for my Lord 
 yesterday, and last night at supper time he spoke of 
 them peevishly enough, saying that the world had 
 run mad, and there was no peace in it for any 
 honest, quiet gentleman, who desires nothing but 
 to live at home and mind his own business. 
 
 " Here hath been Sir Thomas Fulton's chaplain 
 telling me that David Lee holds a conventicle at 
 his house, and urging me to prosecute him. But 
 I wont do it !" said my Lord, with an oath, and 
 striking the table with his hand, as his wont is 
 when excited. " Old David is an honest fellow, 
 and his family have been good friends to me and 
 mine these hundreds of years, and I wont interfere 
 with him for any parson of them all. Let him 
 manage his family his own way and sing psalms 
 through his nose, if he likes. What do I care?" 
 
 " But you ought to care, and to act too, so long 
 as he breaks the laws, brother!" said Lady 
 Jemima, sharply. " Why else are you a magistrate 
 and Lord of the Manor, save to execute tho 
 laws?" 
 
 "You think so, do you?" said my Lord, turning 
 short round on her. " Suppose somebody chooses 
 to bring up the laws, of which there are plenty, 
 against Popish ornaments and books, and after spy- 
 ing into your closet, should come to me with a com-
 
 3O2 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 plaint against you. Should I bo bound to execute 
 the laws therein?" 
 
 "That's a very different matter!" answered 
 Lady Jemima, looking a good deal discomfited. 
 " The Archbishop sanctions those things." 
 
 "The Archbishop does a good many things 
 which he would find it hard to answer, if he were 
 brought before a court of law as he may be, 
 sometime or other," said my Lord. " Here 
 is Walter writes me from London that the 
 Puritan party is gaining strength every day, 
 and the people cry out on all sides for a Parlia- 
 ment, and no wonder. It is twelve years since we 
 had one, or nearly that. And, by the way, Wat 
 himself had a narrow escape. He was set upon by 
 highwaymen, not far from Salisbury, and came 
 near coming by the worst. Had you heard of that, 
 Margaret? You were down at Corby-End this 
 morning, I think." 
 
 I answered quietly that I had heard the story. 
 
 " And why didn't you tell it, then ?" demanded 
 my Lord, with some impatience. " Think you 
 nobody but yourself hath any right to news of 
 Walter?" 
 
 "My Lady was not well this morning," I 
 answered. " I thought the news might perhaps 
 disturb her." 
 
 My Lord smoothed his brow. " You think of 
 everything," said he. "You are a good girl, 
 Margaret, and Wat might do worse, after all said 
 and done," he added, as if speaking to himself.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 303 
 
 I don't know what I should have done, but that 
 poor Lady Jemima made a diversion by fainting 
 away, in her place, almost scaring my Lord out of 
 his wits. 
 
 " It will be nothing," I said, as I was loosing 
 her boddice : " she is better already." 
 
 "Do you think it was the story about Wat 
 that upset her ?" asked my Lord, like a marplot, 
 as he is. 
 
 " Not at all," said I (I fear it was a fib on my 
 part). " She hath had these fits more than once 
 lately. I think they come from going too long 
 without eating. See, her color is coming back 
 already." 
 
 The poor lady opened her eyes and gave me a 
 look of gratitude and woe, which went to my heart. 
 I do wish she would be friends with me. But in 
 ten minutes she was as cold and austere as ever. 
 
 As I arranged her dress for her, I saw that she 
 wore sackcloth next her skin, and a cross with 
 sharp edges turned inward, which had left their 
 mark on her tender bosom. Alas ! poor lady, my 
 heart bleeds for her !
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 November 9. 
 
 many tilings have changed since I wrote 
 last, that I hardly know where to begin. 
 My Lady is safe, that is the great thing, 
 and has a fine sturdy pair of twin boys, 
 to every one's great delight. I think it is my luck 
 to have to do with twins. 
 
 Then my engagement with Walter is openly 
 acknowledged and sanctioned, too, by everybody 
 concerned, and I am now treated quite as a 
 daughter of the house, though I go on mine old 
 way with Betty. 
 
 Lady Jemima hath been very sick, but is, I 
 hope, in a way to recover. And we are at last the 
 best friends in the world. 
 
 It all came about in this wise. My Lady had 
 been ailing for a good many days, and kept her 
 chamber for the most part. I had partly promised 
 to ride to the revels at Langhain with my Lord, 
 Mr. Penrose and his sister, a very pretty and 
 pleasant young lady, lately come 'out of Cornwall 
 to \isit him. I confess I looked forward to the 
 <304)
 
 The Corbet CJironicles. 3o5 
 
 jaunt with some pleasure, for I love seeing now 
 places and people, and I have been very quiet 
 eince I came hither. But the evening before wo 
 were to set out, my Lady sent for me to her room 
 I found her lying on the couch, with no other light 
 but that from the fire, and she beckoned me to a 
 low seat by her side. 
 
 "Margaret," said she, "is your heart very 
 much set on going to these revels to-morrow ?" 
 
 " No, my Lady," I answered : " not set upon it 
 at all, if you wish me to stay at home." 
 
 " I fear I am very selfish in asking it," con- 
 tinued my dear Lady, taking my hand in hers, and 
 stroking it with her slender fingers : " but, sweet- 
 heart, if the disappointment will not be too grievous, 
 I should like to have jou stay. I am not well, 
 and I am very fanciful and I have learned to 
 depend very much upon you, my dear. Maybe I 
 shall not ask much more of you in this world." 
 
 " My dearest Lady, don't say so," said I, kissing 
 her hand, and hardly able to speak as quietly as I 
 knew that I ought, for the lump that rose in my 
 throat. " It will be no disappointment for mo to 
 stay at home, since you desire it. I shall be glad 
 to do so." 
 
 " Mr. Penrose will be ready to say hard things 
 of me, I fear," said my Lady. 
 
 "I don't think he will mind," I answered. 
 " They are to join the party from Fulton Manor, 
 you know, so Mrs. Kitty will not want for com- 
 pany or countenance." 
 
 20
 
 306 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 " Do you really think he is looking in that 
 direction ?" asked my Lady. 
 
 " I told her that I did, and I was very glad, 
 both for his sake and Mrs. Priscilla's." 
 
 "Tis just as well, as things have fallen out," 
 said my lady, sighing a little, methought ; " but I 
 gave Mr. Penrose credit for more constancy. 
 Then, my dear, I will break this matter to my 
 Lord to-night, and save you any trouble about it. 
 And, Margaret, I have written a letter to my Lord 
 in case of my death, in which I have explained 
 your relations to "Walter, and asked him, for my 
 sake, to countenance them. I am sure he will do 
 so in the end, hut you know my Lord's hasty 
 spirit, and you must not mind a little roughness 
 just at first. 'Tis ever his way to say more than 
 he means. I have also explained my wishes with 
 regard to Betty, and have written a letter to her 
 and one to Walter, which will all be found in my 
 cabinet. And now, Margaret, if you can listen 
 quietly, I want to speak to you of some other 
 matters." 
 
 "I will try, my Lady," said I. And so I did, 
 while she went over various matters respecting 
 her laying out and burial, and the disposal of her 
 clothes, together with the provision she wished to 
 have made of mourning for the school children, 
 and the old folks at the alms-houses. 
 
 " I have tried to talk over these matters with 
 my Cousin Judith," concluded my Lady ; " but she 
 always breaks into tears, and that is ill for both of
 
 The Corbet Chronicles* 307 
 
 us. I have good hope that they will be unneces- 
 sary, but I shall not die the more for having them 
 arranged and off my mind." 
 
 " I think not, surely, my Lady," I answered, as 
 fihe seemed to expect me to speak. " On the con- 
 trary, your mind will be the easier for having them 
 all settled. I never could understand the feelings 
 that people have about such matters making wills 
 and the like. A man is none the more likely to 
 die for having made his will, and settled his affairs, 
 and if he does receive a sudden call, what a com- 
 fort to him to think that he has left everything in 
 order for those he must leave behind." 
 
 By this time I had talked away the lump in my 
 throat, and felt quite cairn and composed ; so I 
 said to my Lady that 1 thought I had best take 
 notes of what she had told me, that there need be 
 no mistake. She agreeing thereto, I got lights 
 and paper, and wrote down her desires as she 
 dictated them to me, and then read them over to 
 her. 
 
 " That is all clear and plain !" said my Lady ; 
 " and now for your own matters, Margaret. I 
 believe I ought to release you from the promise 
 you made to me, to remain with Betty for a year. 
 As matters then were, it seemed best for both of 
 you ; but the case is altered." 
 
 " I don't desire to be released, my Lady," I 
 answered her. " I mean to keep my word with 
 you. I have told Mr. Corbet so, and he agrees 
 that I am right."
 
 308 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 " Mr. Corbet is the most reasonable of men, and 
 will have the most reasonable of wives," said my 
 Lady, smiling somewhat sadly : " but that is no 
 argument for his being imposed upon, or you 
 either." 
 
 " Indeed, my Lady, I don't feel that I am being 
 imposed upon," I said, eagerly. "I am very 
 happy with you. I am very young to be married, 
 and I am all the time learning what will make me 
 the more worthy of my new position." 
 
 " Learning of Mrs. Judith to make tarts aud 
 conserves, and to order a household ; and of Mrs. 
 Brewster to clearstarch and work lace and what 
 of me, sweetheart ?" asked my Lady. 
 
 "Everything good, madam," I said, kissing the 
 hand she had laid on mine " Truth, and kindness, 
 and patience " and here the lump came in my 
 throat again, and I could say no more. 
 
 " Aye, patience ! Learn patience, maiden. It 
 will stand thee in good stead," said my Lady, with 
 something nearer to bitterness than ever I heard 
 from her before, and then she murmured some 
 lines, which, as I remember, ran thus : 
 
 " Bring me a woman constant to her husband, 
 One that ne'er dreamed a joy above his pleasure ; 
 And to that woman, when she hath done most, 
 Yet will I add an honor a great patience." 
 
 " Do you know who writ those lines, Margaret ?" 
 " Shakspeare, I should say, Madam, though I 
 
 never read them," I answered. 
 
 " You are right ; they are Shakspeare's. No 
 
 one else could so have expressed that character of
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 309 
 
 Qneen Catharine. People do not set much store 
 by him now-a-days, but I cannot but think the 
 time will come when he will be set far above those 
 playwrights, who are now so much the fashion. 
 You shall have the book and read the play for 
 yourself. But never mind that now. Margaret, I 
 have no special directions to give you regarding 
 my poor child. I am sure you will manage her 
 rightly and reasonably, and always be her friend. 
 For her sake I am glad that you are like to be 
 settled so near us. I might say more on this head, 
 but that I feel an inward persuasion, almost 
 amounting to a certaint}', that Betty will not be 
 long behind me, if I am taken away." 
 
 She paused a little, and then went on to speak 
 of the child that was coming, saying : " If it should 
 be a boy he will have friends, more than enough, 
 but if a girl, I commend her to your love and care. 
 I am sure you will care for her, Margaret." 
 
 I answered her as well as I could. 
 
 " You must not mind my Lord's humors," she 
 continued. "He is brave, generous and kind- 
 hearted, but he is naturally high-spirited, and 
 having been used to living so much amidst depen- 
 dents, he is naturally impatient of contradiction." 
 
 " Or of anything else but gross flattery and sub- 
 serviency," I could not help thinking. And in 
 truth 'tis hard to believe very much in the great- 
 ness of a man, who must be managed like a child, 
 and who cannot hear the least word of dissent or 
 contradiction, without scolding and fretting, till
 
 310 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 he makes himself a spectacle. I am glad Walter 
 has been knocked about the world a little more, 
 for I am sure I should lose all respect for him if 
 he should treat me many times as my Lord treats 
 my Lady, who has more sense in her glove than 
 he ever had in his hat. 
 
 My Lady finished what she had to say to mo, 
 and my Lord coming in, I retired. 
 
 " So I find we are not to have your company 
 to-morrow," said my Lord, meeting me afterward 
 on the stairs. " 'Tis very kind in you to stop with 
 my Lady, and lose the pleasure of the day ; but 
 you shall fare none the worse, I promise you. Of 
 course it is not to be expected that I should re- 
 main at home (I did not see the " of course " 
 it would have seemed to me only natural, remem- 
 bering my dear father's way at such times) " but 
 I am glad you will be with her, and I shall not 
 forget it. You are a good girl, Margaret." 
 
 I courtesied, and said, " Thank you, my Lord." 
 
 " By the way, I hear that "Wat Corbet is coming 
 home soon," said he, detaining me on the stairs, 
 as I was about to pass him. " Have you heard of 
 it?" 
 
 "I knew lie expected to be at home about 
 Hallowmass," I answered. 
 
 "You know a great deal about him, it seems to 
 me," said my Lord, in rather a discontented 
 tone. " However, an that come to pass which I 
 hope for, he may marry whom he likes, for all me. 
 You have always been a good girl, Meg, and fond
 
 T/ie Corbel Chronicles. 311 
 
 of my Lady. You are not scheming to stand in 
 her shoes, are you ?" 
 
 " No, my Lord, that I am not !" I answered, 
 rather hotly. " I hope my Lady may stand in her 
 own shoes this many a day to come. As for 
 scheming, I am scheming for nothing, and I see 
 not why I should be accused of it !" 
 
 " Well, well, you need not be so tart !" said my 
 Lord. (People like him always wonder how folks 
 can be so tart.) " I only asked the question. I 
 am sorry to miss JOMIC company, and so I dare say 
 some other folks will be ; but my Lady's fancies 
 are to be considered, of course. Tell me what I 
 shall bring Betty from the revels? Poor child, 
 'tis a hard case that all such things must pass by 
 her, and she have none of the fun : but I suppose 
 she would like a fairing." 
 
 I felt sure she would, and told him what I 
 thought she would fancy, namely, a thread-case 
 and scissor-case for she is beginning to take great 
 pleasure in needlework. 
 
 "I will remember," said he, taking out his 
 tablets, and setting down what I had told him ; 
 " and what shall I give you?" 
 
 " I will leave that to your own taste, my Lord," I 
 was saying, when Lady Jemima coining down the 
 stairs, a little way, called out, " Brother, I wish to 
 speak with you !" and I made my escape. But going 
 down again presently, to carry some message which 
 niy Lady had given me to Mrs. Judith, 1 heard my 
 Lord say to Lady Jemima, as he left her room :
 
 3 r 2 J^aay tfetty s Lroverness ; or, 
 
 " Well, well, we can do nothing now, my Lady 
 is so set upon her. But if you are right, Jem !" 
 I hurried on and heard no more, but 1 felt sure 
 that they were talking of me. 
 
 The next day dawned clear and bright, though 
 there were signs which might portend a storm be- 
 fore its close. I did not go down to the early 
 breakfast, for Betty had had a turn of pain in the 
 night, and Mary had called me up to soothe her, 
 and give her some quieting medicine, which she 
 will take from no hand but mine and her mother's : 
 so after I had given it her, I lay clown beside her 
 in the bed, and would not rise for fear of waking 
 her. She waked herself when my Lady came in, 
 and I rose and went to my room. Here I found 
 Mrs. Judith, intent upon taking down and brushing 
 the hangings, and performing I know not what 
 other cleaning operations : so after I had dressed, 
 I locked up all my small treasures in my cabinet, 
 and putting my watch in my bosom, and in my 
 pocket the little Prayer-book and the Thomas a 
 Kempis which Walter had sent me, I went down 
 to the chapel to say my prayers there. I found 
 Lady Jemima before me, busied in decorating the 
 altar with late flowers, which she arranged with a 
 great deal of taste. She seemed to mak6 an effort 
 to be pleasant with me, I thought, foi: she bade 
 me good morning, and then said, as I stopped to 
 look at her work : 
 
 " I suppose your Puritan notions would 
 these decorations?' 7
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 313 
 
 " I have no Puritan notions that I know of," I 
 answered : " and certainly not that one. I love 
 flowers anywhere, and I don't know any place 
 where they seem prettier or better bestowed than 
 in church. I should not like to see artificial 
 flowers in such a place, because they would look 
 tawdry and unworthy ; but the real flowers are 
 quite another thing." 
 
 " I should not have expected to hear that from a 
 fiiend and upholder of Mr. Prynne !" said Lady 
 Jemima. 
 
 " Mr. Prynne was my father's fiiend and kins- 
 man, and hath been kind to my mother since his 
 death," I answered : " but he never was specially 
 a friend of mine. On the contrary, I am afraid I 
 had a mortal fear and dislike to the poor man, 
 because he used to contradict and browbeat my 
 father so." 
 
 " And yet your father was friendly with him !" 
 she remarked. 
 
 " Yes, madam," I said. " My mother would be 
 indignant sometimes, and then my father would 
 laugh and say that he knew how to separate the 
 husks of opinion and prejudice from the sound and 
 sweet fruit of the man : but I must confess the 
 husks ever stuck too much in my throat to let mo 
 relish the fruit. But I could not but grieve for 
 his hard fate, when I remembered his kindness to 
 the poor, and to my mother, above all. I should 
 love a Turk if he were kind to my mother." 
 
 She made no answer to this, but turned to go
 
 314 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 away, gathering up the rejected stalks and leaves 
 of her flowers, in which I made bold to help her. 
 She thanked me, but rather stiffly, and asked mo 
 what had brought me thither so early. I told her 
 I had come to say my prayers, as Mrs. Judith was 
 cleaning my room. 
 
 " That is well !" said she. " Do you pray for 
 your enemies?" 
 
 " I should, if I had any, madam," I answered : 
 " but I think I have none, or at least only one," 
 I added, thinking of Felicia. 
 
 " I am that one, I suppose !" said she. 
 
 "No, madam," I answered her. "I was not 
 thinking of you." 
 
 " Pray for me, nevertheless !" said she, her face 
 growing pale and sharp, as if with some hidden 
 pain, and with that she went quickly away. I 
 could not but wonder at her words, but she is al- 
 ways unlike other people, so I did not think so 
 much of it. I said my prayers, not forgetting to 
 pray for the poor lady, and then, as my books 
 were heavy to carry in my pocket, I bestowed 
 them, as I thought, safely in a corner of my usual 
 seat, little thinking what a scrape they were going 
 to bring me into, and went about my business. 
 
 The weather was gloomy and lowering all day, 
 but the sun shone out bright and clear about half 
 an hour before its setting, and Betty, taking a fancy 
 to go out, I wrapped her up and took her into the 
 garden, on the west side of the house, which is 
 warm and sheltered in the afternoon. Here sho
 
 T/ie Corbel Chronicles. 3i5 
 
 played about awhile, talking to Dick Gardener, 
 who is a great ally of hers, and gathering a nose- 
 gay of late flowers for her mother; when, just as I 
 was thinking that we must go in presently, I saw 
 Lady Jemima coming down the steps toward me. 
 As she drew near, I saw that her face was white 
 \vith passion, and that she had my two books in 
 her hand. She came close up to me, and holding 
 them up before me, asked, in a voice which trem- 
 bled with anger : 
 
 " Where did you get these books ? Whose hand 
 is this in the beginning ?" 
 
 Then, before I could speak, she added : " Tell 
 me no lies, wench! This is Walter Corbet's 
 hand !" 
 
 I was cool in a minute. I saw that the time had 
 come, and that I must hold mine own with her, 
 and if possible keep her from disturbing my Lady. 
 
 "I do not mean to lie why should I?" I said. 
 "It is Walter Corbet's hand, and he gave me the 
 books!" 
 
 "And you dare to tell me so !" said she, turning 
 paler still, if that were possible. "You receive 
 love tokens from Walter Corbet you !" 
 
 She caught her breath, and stood looking at me 
 with the utmost scorn and abhorrence in her face. 
 
 " We shall see what his mother will say to such 
 treachery, my dainty mistress ' his beloved Mar- 
 garet,' forsooth ! I will tell her what an honor is 
 in store for her, and what a fine intrigue her pure- 
 minded son is carrying on under his cousin's roof ! '
 
 3 1 6 . Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 " You will tell her no news, and there is no 
 intrigue in the case !" said I. " I am "Walter Cor- 
 bet's betrothed wife, with his mother's full know- 
 ledge and consent, and also with my Lady's !" 
 
 With that I stooped to pick up the books which 
 she had cast on the ground at my feet, when, as 
 ill-luck would have it, my watch and Walter's pic- 
 ture slipped from my bosom and fell on the grass, 
 the picture face uppermost, of course. With a cry 
 of wrath and anguish such as I never heard, she 
 set her heel on the picture, and crushed it to atoms, 
 and then turning to Betty, who had come up pant- 
 ing and full of amazement, she seized her by the 
 arm, saying, in a stifled voice: 
 
 " Come away from this wretch this viper ! 
 Come away, before she shall poison you !" 
 
 Then, as Betty hung back, and clung crying to 
 me, scared by her aunt's violence : " Come with me, 
 I say, or I will drag you away by force !" 
 
 " I wont !" screamed Betty, all her passionate 
 temper aroused in turn ; and, wrenching away her 
 arm : " You are a viper yourself, and a dragon too, 
 Aunt Jemima, and I hate you !" 
 
 " Yes, you have profited by your teaching !" said 
 Lady Jemima, in the same strange, unnatural 
 voice. " Come with me, I say !" 
 
 And with that she seized the child by the shoul- 
 der, and by a sudden wrench, pulling her away, sho 
 dragged her toward the house. I was horrified, 
 knowing how easily she was hurt, and sprang to 
 the rescue, and at the same moment Betty gave a
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 317 
 
 shrill cry of agony, and called out, " Mamma ! oh 
 mamma ! Aunt Jem is killing me !" Then looking 
 up oh, sight of horror ! I saw my Lady running 
 down the stone steps of the terrace, and, catching 
 her foot, fall headlong to the ground ! 
 
 I forgot all else even my child, at that sight, 
 and I was by her side in a moment, raising her 
 head in my lap. 
 
 Betty burst out crying "Mamma is killed! 
 Mamma is killed !" and threw herself on the ground 
 by her side. 
 
 Lady Jemima stood as if turned to stone. I 
 saw in a moment that my Lady still breathed, and 
 presently she opened her eyes. By this time Dick 
 Gardener and his assistants came running up, and 
 I made Ambrose, who is a great, strong, handy 
 fellow, take up my Lady and carry hei to her 
 room, while I ran before to call Mrs. Judith and 
 Mrs. Brewster. By this time all the servants 
 were alarmed, and came running into the hall to 
 meet us. I sent Mary to bring in Betty and put 
 her to bed, and the others on different errands, to 
 get them out of the way, for somehow I seemed 
 to have everything to do, and to think of every- 
 thing at once. As for Lady Jemima, she had 
 never moved from her place, and nobody seemed 
 to think about her at all. 
 
 By the time we got my Lady to her room, she 
 was quite herself, and gave directions about every- 
 thing she wanted, bidding Brewster undress her, 
 and telling me to go and see to Betty and bring
 
 318 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 word how she was ; for she feared she had been 
 hurt in the struggle. I found Betty crying and 
 sobbing in Mary's arms, who was trying to coax 
 her to be undressed, instead of going to her 
 mother, as she was determined to do. 
 
 I now found the benefit of having reduced the 
 child to obedience. She submitted, sorrowfully, 
 but passively, when I told her that she could not 
 go to her mother to-night, but if she wanted to 
 please her she must be good and quiet and do as 
 she was bid. 
 
 " I will try to be good !" said she, pitifully, as I 
 began to unlace her boddice ; " but oh, Margaret, 
 Aunt Jem did hurt me so ! I could not help crying 
 out ! You don't think it was my fault that mamma 
 fell down-stairs, do you ?" 
 
 I told her no that she was not to blame in the 
 least ; and indeed I could not feel that she was. 
 
 " How is mamma ? Is she dying ?" asked Betty. 
 
 " O no !" I answered, as cheerfully as I could. 
 " I think perhaps she will be quite well in the 
 morning, if she is not disturbed to-night. She is 
 troubled about you, and I want to carry back a 
 good account of you." 
 
 Betty was ah 1 docility in a minute, and let me 
 undress her and rub her back and shoulders. 
 
 " Does it hurt you, now?" I asked. 
 
 " Not so very much," she answered, with a strong 
 emphasis on the "very." "Not so very mnch, 
 when I am quite still. Tell mamma so, please." 
 
 " You shall go to bed now, and I will sit with
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 319 
 
 you while Mary brings your supper," said I. And 
 I made her a sign to make haste, for I was on 
 thorns to get back to my Lady. 
 
 When I had seen Betty comfortable, I went 
 back again to my Lady's room. By this time it 
 was quite dark the \viud was blowing, and the 
 rain dashing against the windows, and it promised 
 to be a wild night. I found Mrs. Judith had sent 
 man and horse after the doctor and nurse: " For 
 though my Lady seems quiet enough just now, my 
 dear, we shall want help before morning, I am sure. 
 I only wish my Lord had left us Roger, instead of 
 Harry Andrews." 
 
 I wished so too, for Harry was young, and not 
 over steady, and besides he was brother to Tom 
 Andrews, which was enough to set me against 
 him. 1 could not help wondering at my Lord, 
 knowing as he did what was like to happen at any 
 time, and said so." 
 
 " Oh, there's no use in expecting any sense in 
 men!" said Mrs. Judith, with decision. "They 
 are all alike in those matters, my dear. An ounce 
 of trouble for themselves outweighs a pound for 
 anybody else." 
 
 " Not with all men, I think !" said I, remember- 
 ing my dear father. " What time ought Harry to 
 be back?" 
 
 " By eight o'clock, at farthest." 
 
 " And when ought we to expect my Lord?" I 
 asked. Mrs. Judith looked grave. 
 
 " Not to-night, I am afraid : or at least not till
 
 320 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 late. They will sup with Sir Thomas Fulton, and 
 most likely stay all night, as it is such a storm." 
 
 Eight o'clock came, and half-past eight, but no 
 Harry, and no doctor. My Lady began to grow 
 worse very fast, and by half-past nine she was in 
 convulsions. Mrs. Brewster lost her head entirely, 
 and could do nothing but cry ; and Mrs. Judith 
 was terribly flurried, and evidently quite at her 
 wits' end. 
 
 " You see I have had so little experience !" said 
 she to me, as she came out into the ante-chamber. 
 I never had but one of my own, and my Lady 
 always had her mother with her before. I would 
 give my right hand if Mrs. Corbet were here 
 but how to bring her !" 
 
 " Surely she would come if she were sent for !" 
 said I. 
 
 " Aye, but how to send. You see, my dear, this 
 is All-Hallow's even, and I don't believe you could 
 get one of the servants to go down to Corby-End 
 for love nor money !" 
 
 " What, not for my Lady ?" I exclaimed. 
 
 Mrs. Judith shook her head. 
 
 " Fear makes people selfish, my dear ; and in- 
 deed, considering what hath been seen between 
 here and there on All-Hallow's eve, I should not 
 like it myself. Not but that I would go if I could." 
 
 " I will go down to the kitchen and see what can 
 be done," said I, and I went. I found the maids, 
 with old Thomas and David, who were the only 
 men left at home, gathered closely round the fire,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 321 
 
 listening to some dreadful tale of gliosts and what 
 not, which Anne was doling out to them : and one 
 or two of them shrieked as I opened the door, as if 
 I had been the White Dame herself. I told my 
 errand, but was answered only by blank looks and 
 a torrent of expostulation and assurance that no 
 one would dare to go through the park this night, 
 no not to have the whole of it, for fear of meeting 
 the Halting Knight and a certain evil spirit which 
 is supposed, at this time, to be mousing about the 
 Abbey for any unlucky soul that ventures out after 
 dark. 
 
 "And so you will let your good Lady die for 
 lack of help !" said I, as soon as I could get a 
 hearing. 
 
 " As to that, our lives are worth as much to us 
 as my Lady's to her!" answered Anne, pertly 
 enough ; " and who knows what Madam Corbet 
 might do, if she did come ? I'll be bound she hath 
 heard the news before this time. She doth not 
 need earthly messengers, as honest folks do. 
 Everybody knows that!" 
 
 " Everybody knows that you are an ungrateful 
 fool, Anne Hollius," said old Thomas ; " and if 
 you do not lose your place for that same speech, 
 it will not be my fault, I promise you. I would 
 go in a minute, Mrs. Merton, but you know I can 
 scarce put one foot before the other." 
 
 " And you, David !" said I. David only shrank 
 together and muttered something, but it was clear 
 he would not go. 
 
 21
 
 322 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 " Get me the lanthorn ready I will go myself !" 
 said I, at last. " I fear no evil when on a good 
 errand, and hold myself safer out in this storm 
 and under God's protection, than you are here 
 round the fire. Remember stone walls cannot 
 keep out spirits, and the Evil One himself is like 
 enough to be busy among you selfish cowards 
 that you are !" 
 
 "With that I left them, and running to mine own 
 room^I put on my thick woolen gown, which 
 mother would have had me leave at home, and in 
 less time than I can write it, I was back in my 
 Lady's room, telling Mrs. Judith of my purpose. 
 
 "God bless yon, dear maid!" she exclaimed, 
 kissing me and bursting into tears. " Go then, 
 and good angels guard you !" 
 
 " And so you are really going !" said Dorothy, 
 the fat cook, as she put the lanthorn into my 
 hand : " and you, you idle, good for nought men, 
 will let her go alone ! I would go myself, but 
 I should hinder more than help you !" 
 
 " I'm going with Mrs. Merton !" said Jacky, 
 the little knife-boy, starting up from his corner, and 
 buttoning up his doublet, while his pale face and 
 staring eyes showed his fears were only less 
 strong than his sense of duty. " I'm only a lad, 
 but I am somebody, and she shan't go aloue-so !" 
 
 " Good boy !" said Dorothy, as she tied her own 
 kerchief over his ears to keep his cap on. " Thou 
 shalt have a fine plum bun, I promise thee ! There, 
 go along, and God bless you both !"
 
 T/ie Corbel Chronicles. 323 
 
 As we went out into the night, the wind caught 
 us, and we had much ado to keep our feet. It 
 came not steadily, but in heavy gusts, laden with 
 sharp, stinging rain, and roared fearfully in the 
 great trees. It was not so very dark, for there 
 was a moon, which shone out now and then 
 through the flying clouds, but a wilder night 
 sure no two young things were ever abroad in. 
 I walked on as fast as I could, and Jacky trudged 
 manfully by my side, not even blenching when we 
 passed into the Abbey church-yard, which we must 
 needs cross, as the shortest way to Corby-End. As 
 we were in the midst thereof, the moon shone out 
 suddenly, and an owl I suppose it was an owl 
 gave an unearthly screech. 
 
 " Save us !" cried Jack}', pressing close to my 
 side. "What's that?" 
 
 " Only an owl," said I, valorously. " Never 
 mind him !" But I did not feel as brave as my 
 words, by any means. However, we crossed the 
 church-yard safely enough, and descended into the 
 ravine. 
 
 Here it was very dark. The brook, already 
 swollen with the rain, narrowed the path, so that 
 we had to go one by one. There were strange 
 Bounds in the trees, and the passing gleams of the 
 lanthorn made strange shapes on the rocks and 
 bushes. I grew very impatient to reach the end, 
 for, aside from all other fears, I knew the brook, 
 which hath its rise in the high moon, sometime:- 
 swelled very suddenly, and made the track quite
 
 324 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 impassable. But the more haste the worse speed. 
 In my hurry I stumbled and fell, putting out the 
 light. Jacky burst out crying : " Oh, mistress, 
 what shall we do now ?" 
 
 " Push on as fast as we can," said I, affecting a 
 courage I by no means felt. " Take hold of my 
 gown, and make what haste you are able. Even 
 as I spoke, something seemed to brush past me, 
 so near to my face that I felt it, and again 
 we heard the same wild scream which had greeted 
 us in the church-yard. Stumbling and tripping, 
 however, we hurried on, and at last came out 
 at the little gate I have mentioned before in these 
 memoirs. We were still in the thick woods, but 
 then the path was plain, and at last oh, welcome 
 sight ! we saw the lights in the windows of Corby- 
 Endl 
 
 Never did any one look more amazed than 
 Madam Corbet, when I burst into her pretty, 
 orderly room, all dripping, torn, and draggled as I 
 was, and told my tale with breathless haste. Not 
 till it was ended, did I see that Walter was at my 
 side. Then all my strength seemed gone in a 
 minute, and I should have fallen, but for his 
 arms. 
 
 "I must go to my cousin instantly," said 
 Madam, rising. " Walter, will you order my horse, 
 and tell Will to get ready to ride ? There is no 
 time to lose !" 
 
 " I will myself go with you as far as the great 
 house, and then ride on in search of the doctor,"
 
 The Corbet CJironicles. 325 
 
 said "Walter. " As for Margaret, she must abide 
 here and go to bed." 
 
 " No, no !" I cried. " I must go back. Indeed 
 I must ! If Betty wake and misses me, no one 
 will be able to manage her, and I shall be wanted, 
 beside. I must go back directly !" 
 
 " I believe she is right !" said Madam, to my 
 great joy. She would have me drink some hot 
 wine, however, and indeed I was glad of it. I 
 believe they made all the haste possible, but 
 it seemed an age before we were ready to set out 
 As for Jacky, he was left with the servants to be 
 dried, warmed and feasted to his heart's content. 
 I rode behind Walter, and Madam her own 
 horse, and we were not long in reaching the house. 
 When we were safely dismounted, Walter said he 
 would ride on with Will and find the doctor. 
 
 " You will be drenched through !" said I. 
 
 " Nay, I have my horseman's coat, and I am not 
 made of sugar nor salt, more than yourself, my 
 dear love!" said he: "but, dear' mother, do see 
 that Margaret changes her clothes." 
 
 And with that he was gone. Many people 
 would have thought it not a very sentimental 
 greeting, after so long an absence : but I was well 
 contented with it. I hurried to my room to dress 
 myself, for indeed I was wet through, and I knew 
 it was but right that I should take due care of my 
 own health. When I had done so, I looked in at 
 my child. She was awake, and started up at my 
 entrance.
 
 326 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 " Mamma !" said she, breathlessly. 
 
 " She is likely to do well, I trust," I answered. 
 fi Your Cousin Corbet is come to stay with her. 
 Try to go to sleep, my dear one." 
 
 "But you will come and tell me?" she said, 
 holding my hand. " I don't want you to stay, be- 
 cause mamma might need you, but you will come 
 and tell me. And I have tried to be good, haven't 
 I, Mary?" 
 
 " Indeed you have, niy dear, tender lamb my 
 sweet, precious young Lady!" said Mary, wiping 
 her eyes : " I am sure an angel could not havo 
 behaved any better !" 
 
 I kissed her and again assured her that I would 
 bring her the first news, and bade her pray for her 
 mother ; and then I left her and hurried back to 
 my Lady's antechamber, where I mot Lady 
 Jemima coming out. 
 
 " Mrs. Corbet is with her," said she. " She will 
 not endure me in her sight and no wonder. I 
 feel as if I had murdered her." 
 
 " You have !" I answered her, bitterly enough. 
 I was wrong, but at that moment I did really feel 
 that if my Lady died, Lady Jemima would bo 
 answerable for her death. Lady Jemima looked 
 strangely at me for a moment, and then turned 
 and fled swiftly to her own room. 
 
 Mrs. Judith opened the door in a few minutes 
 to whisper to me that my Lady was already quieter, 
 and seemed soothed and comforted by her cousin's 
 presence, and to ask me to go down and see that
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 327 
 
 some supper was prepared for my Lord, in case of 
 his coming Lome, which I did. I found Dorothy 
 had anticipated me, however, for she had made 
 everything ready, and not only that, but she had 
 some dainty broth keeping hot by the kitchen fire, 
 which she begged me eat a part of, and carry the 
 rest up to Mrs. Judith. 
 
 " I had not thought of wanting anything to eat, 
 Dorothy," said I. 
 
 " No, I dare say not, nor Mrs. Judith neither," 
 answered Dorothy, dryly. " You're not the kind 
 that always thinks of your own insides, whatever 
 happens ; so much the more need that others 
 should think for you." 
 
 I would not seem ungrateful for the good soul's 
 care, so I drank a cup of broth, and indeed it did 
 me a great deal of good. I had hardly got up- 
 stairs again when I heard a clatter of horses' hoofs, 
 and my Lord's voice above the storm, directing 
 Eoger and TVill about the horses. Mrs. Corbet at 
 the same moment opened the door. 
 
 "Go you down to meet my Lord, dear heart!" 
 said she. " Tell him Elizabeth is going on well, 
 but do not let him come up. Everything depends 
 on quietness, just now !" 
 
 I needed no second bidding, but ran down-stairs, 
 find met my Lord at the door. He was coming in, 
 after his usual jolly, careless fashion, evidently 
 merry, } T et not much the worse but that he never 
 is for the wine he had drank at supper. He 
 checked his whistle on seeing mo.
 
 328 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 " What, Margaret ! What keeps you up so late ?" 
 Then, as I held up a warning finger, he seemed to 
 divine the state of the case. " My Lady ! Is 
 she?" 
 
 " She is in a way to do well, I trust and believe !" 
 said I ; " but she has been very ill, and Mrs. 
 Corbet says all depends on quietness." 
 
 "The surgeon is here, I suppose?" said ho, 
 after a minute. 
 
 I told him how it was that Harry had gone for 
 him at first and did not return ; and that, growing 
 alarmed, Mrs. Judith had sent for Mrs. Corbet, 
 about an hour ago. 
 
 " Aye, that was well !" said he. " But who went 
 for her? I would have said there was not a 
 wench about the place who would have gone 
 down to Corby-End to-night on any errand what- 
 ever ; and David is a greater coward than any of 
 them." 
 
 " I went myself," said I. 
 
 "You!" exclaimed my Lord, putting his hand 
 on my shoulder, and holding me off to look at me. 
 " Meg ! You never went down to Corby-End 
 alone, this wild night !" 
 
 " Nay !" I answered. " I had Jacky the knife- 
 boy for protector. We had a rough walk, but we 
 met with no worse misadventure than slipping into 
 the brook two or three times, and putting out our 
 lanthorn. And I rode back and left Jacky to be 
 petted by the maids down there !" 
 
 He caught mo in his arms, kissiug my forehead,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 329 
 
 called me his brave maid, his good girl, and I 
 know not what else, and swearing a great oath, 
 as his fashion is, that I should marry whom I 
 liked, and no one should hint a word against me. 
 I got him quieted at last, and set down to his 
 supper, and then stole away, promising to bring 
 him news from time to time; but when I went 
 down again, at the end of an hour, he was fast 
 asleep and snoring on the settle, so I even let him 
 sleep. 
 
 The night wore slowly awa} 7 , and still the doctor 
 did not come ; but I dare say we were as well with- 
 out him. Between five and six, just as the gray 
 dawn began to show in faint streaks above the 
 high moor there was a bustle in my Lady's room 
 and then oh, sound of joy, which I well knew 
 the cry of a little babe. I sprang to my feet, but 
 dared not go near the door. 
 
 Presently, after what seemed an age of suspense, 
 Madam opened it, her dear fair face all flushed 
 with joy ! 
 
 " Good news, Margaret ! we have two bouncing 
 boys and I believe the mother will do well, in 
 spite of all ! Go you and tell my Lord 3'ou havo 
 well earned the right but do not let him come 
 up-stairs, just yet !" 
 
 I ran softly but quickly enough down-stairs to 
 the hall, where I found my Lord awake, rubbing 
 his eyes and shivering. He started up when he 
 saw me. 
 
 " Good news, my Lord the best of news," I
 
 33O Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 cried out. "Two nice lads and my Lady is 
 doing well !" 
 
 "What!" said he, staring, as if he had not 
 taken in my words. I repeated them. 
 
 " But my wife Elizabeth !" he said, paler than 
 I ever could have believed possible. " How is sho 
 doing? Will she live ?" 
 
 "I believe she will !" I said. "Madam thinks 
 so, but she bids you not come up just yet !" 
 
 I shall ever like my Lord the better for what 
 followed. The great strong, soldierly man fell on 
 his knees, and, amid streaming tears and sobs 
 which shook him like an infant, gave broken and 
 heartfelt thanks to Heaven for his wife's deliverance. 
 
 I cried heartily, and the tears seemed to wash 
 from my heart the bitterness and weight which 
 had lain there all night, ever since Lady Jemima 
 had trodden under foot Walter's picture. 
 
 " But the bearer of good news must be rewarded !" 
 said my Lord, when he had calmed himself a little 
 (I saw with pleasure that he seemed no waj'S 
 ashamed of his emotion). " What shall I do for 
 you, Margaret?" 
 
 " If I might ask so much !" said I. 
 
 " Let me hear it !" said he. " It will be hard if 
 you ask what I cannot grant." 
 
 " It is that you will go and carry Lady Betty 
 the good news yourself, my Lord !" I said. " It 
 will be better to her from your lips than from any 
 other source, and it may prevent some jealous 
 fancies, such as children sometimes have. 1 '
 
 T/ie Corbel Chronicles. 331 
 
 ''You are always thinking of your bantling!" 
 said he, evidently well pleased. " I bade you ask 
 something for yourself." 
 
 At that moment the hall door opened and 
 "Walter entered, followed by the surgeon. "Walter 
 told me afterward that he had found Harry An- 
 drews drunk at an afehouse near Biddeford, and 
 that he had rode five miles beyond the town before 
 he found the surgeon. 
 
 " Hallo, "Wat !" cried my Lord, cheerily. "Doc- 
 tor, you are a day after the fair. You have lost 
 your chance of the title this time, Watty, my boy ! 
 Meg here and your lady mother have choused you 
 out of it fairly, between them !" 
 
 " Thank God !" said Walter, fervently. 
 
 " Good ! That's well said," returned my Lord ; 
 " and what is more, I believe you mean it, both you 
 and Margaret ! And that is more than I would 
 say of some folks." 
 
 " I mean it, I know, and I am sure I can answer 
 for Margaret !" said Walter. 
 
 "Aye, you are mighty ready to answer for 
 Margaret," said my Lord. " You and Margaret 
 have been a pair of sly-boots, I believe. However, 
 all is well, and I am sure you will never find a 
 better wife or a fairer, if you look the west country 
 over ; so here's God speed you with, all my heart ! ' 
 And he gave Walter a mighty shake of the hand and 
 a slap on the shoulder, which might have stag- 
 gered a giant. " However, I have promised to break 
 the news to Bess, and I must keep my word."
 
 332 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 He went up-stairs, and I followed, for I wanted 
 to see how the child would take it. As my Lord 
 opened the door, I saw that Bett} 7 was kneeling in 
 the bed, with her hands clasped. She looked up 
 with an eager glance, and a burning blush, when 
 she saw her father. 
 
 " That's right, Bess, my girl !" said her father, 
 coming to the bed, and taking her in his arms. 
 " Thank God for giving you a pair of fine little 
 brothers to take care of you !" 
 
 She clung round his neck. " Oh, papa, has my 
 little brother come ?" 
 
 "Aye, that has he, and brought another with 
 him !" answered my Lord, cheerfully : " and what 
 is better, dear mamrna is doing well." 
 
 Betty seemed quite overwhelmed, and laid her 
 head down on her father's shoulder. Presently 
 she raised it again, and looked anxiously in his 
 face. 
 
 " You wont wish I was dead now, will yon, papa?" 
 said she. " Indeed, I will try to be very good !" 
 
 "Wish you dead! No, child, of course not!" 
 said my Lord, quite shocked. "How could you 
 think of such a thing as that?" 
 
 "You said so that day in the church-yard, 
 papa !" said Betty. " You know I could not help 
 being crooked, and, indeed, I will try to learn all I 
 can, so that I can help mamma and teach my littlo 
 brothers !" she added, with wistful pathos. 
 
 " Bless the child !" said my Lord, kissing her 
 with real tenderness, and hugging her in his arms,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 333 
 
 "I never thought of such a thing! Why, Bess, 
 you must not lay up every word I say as if it -were 
 gospel. What will you do when you are married, 
 and have a husband of your own, if you make so 
 much of every rough speech ?" 
 
 " I never will be married !" said Betty, with de- 
 cision. " I mean to live single all my life, as Mar- 
 garet does !" 
 
 " But suppose Margaret gets married then what 
 will you do ?" asked my Lord. 
 
 " I should not like it at all, and I won't have it !" 
 said Betty. Then gravely, as if reconsidering the 
 matter " unless she will marry Walter, and live at 
 Corby-end. That would be very nice, I think, 
 don't you, papa ?" 
 
 My Lord gave one of his great laughs, kissed her 
 again, and calling her a wise little maid, put her 
 down on the bed, and pulled out of his pocket I 
 know not what expensive toys in the way of scis- 
 sors, needle-cases, and the like, telling her that he 
 had bought them for her yesterday. Then saying 
 he must go and look after his guests, and giving 
 my ear a parting pull, he went away, leaving Betty 
 happier than any queen. 
 
 "What did Aunt Jemima say?" asked Betty, 
 after she had found out that I had not seen tho 
 babes, and making me promise to take her to her 
 mother as soon as possible. 
 
 "I don't know that she has heard yet," I an- 
 swered, my conscience smiting me, as 1 remem- 
 bered my own words to her the night- before, and
 
 334 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 the look she had given me. " I will go now and 
 tell her." 
 
 I tapped gently at Lady Jemima's door, but as 
 no one answered, I ventured to open it and look in. 
 Lady Jemima had not been to bed all night, and 
 now crouched on the cold floor before the little 
 altar in her closet, pale as death, and with eyes 
 swollen with long and bitter weeping. She started 
 up as I entered, but did not speak. 
 
 " Good news, madam !" I said, cheerfully. " The 
 best of news!" And then I told her what had 
 happened. 
 
 " Is not my sister dead, then !" she asked, in a 
 strange, bewildered way : " I thought I had mur- 
 dered her. You said so !" 
 
 " I was angry and said what was very wrong, 
 and I beg your pardon," I answered. " My Lady 
 is like to live, I hope and trust. Madam thinks 
 she is doing well, and also the surgeon, who is 
 come just in time to be too late." 
 
 She threw her arms round my neck, and burst 
 into hysterical sobs and cries. I got her into her 
 chair, and supporting her head, I soothed and 
 quieted her as well as I could, till she was in some 
 degree herself again. 
 
 " You heap coals of fire on my head, Margaret !" 
 said she, when she could speak : " but you did not 
 come here to triumph over me, did you ?" 
 
 " God forbid !" said I, earnestly. " I came but 
 to bring you the good news, and to ask your for- 
 giveness for my wicked words last night."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 335 
 
 "They were true words!" said Lady Jemima, 
 hastily. "I had the spirit of a murderer, if not 
 toward my sister, yet toward you. I could have 
 killed you, Margaret !" 
 
 I did not ask her why. Poor Lady ! I knew 
 well enough how she felt I had injured her. I 
 only said : 
 
 " Dear Lady Jemima, I never meant to harm 
 you!" 
 
 " I know it !" said she, bitterly. " You never did 
 harm me. If you had never come near the place 
 it would have made no difference. It was my own 
 insane vanity and passion. I have been a wicked 
 woman, Margaret a wicked hypocrite, condemn- 
 ing and judging others, when I was far worse than 
 they : but mine eyes have been opened this night, 
 and I have seen myself as I am !" 
 
 " I am not so sure of that !" I said. 
 
 She looked at me in surprise. 
 
 " "When the Saviour put his hands on the blind 
 man's eyes, and asked him if he saw aught, the 
 man answered that he saw men as trees walking. 
 He saw, it was true, but as yet nothing clearly. 
 It needed a second touch before he saw things as 
 they were. It may be so with you." 
 
 She shook her head sadly. " I can never trust 
 myself again," she said. 
 
 " I would not try !" I answered her. " But you 
 know whom you can trust who will never fail those 
 who seek Him. But, dear Lady Jemima, you are 
 now in no fit state to judge of anything. You are
 
 3 3 6 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 wearied out with grief, and watching, and fasting, 
 too, I dare say. Your hands are as cold as ice. 
 Let me help you to bed, and get you some food, 
 and when you have eaten and slept you will bo 
 much better fitted to see and feel rightly." 
 
 " Tell me one thing, Margaret," said she, taking 
 my hands : " are you and Walter truly betroth- 
 ed?" 
 
 " "We are," I answered her ; " and my Lord hath 
 given his consent." 
 
 She made a movement, as if to draw her hand 
 from mine, but refrained. 
 
 "And you will soon be married, I suppose!" 
 she added, after a pause. 
 
 "I believe not," said I. "I promised my dear 
 Lady before there was any likelihood of such good 
 fortune befalling me, that I would not leave Lady 
 Betty for a year, whatever happened ; and I mean 
 to keep my word, unless I have more reason than 
 I see now for breaking it." 
 
 "How I have wronged you!" she said, sighing. 
 " Margaret, there is hardly any evil that I have not 
 thought of you." 
 
 "You were prejudiced against me by one whom 
 you might well have believed," said I. " I know 
 not why Felicia hath always been mine enemy, 
 except that it seems a part of her nature to have 
 to hate somebody." 
 
 " It was not that not altogether !" said Lady 
 Jemima, " It was " 
 
 " You shall tell me another time," said I, ventur-
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 337 
 
 ing to interrupt her ; " that is, if you see fit to 
 honor me with your confidence. I really think you 
 ought to go to bed now, and rest, that you may be 
 ready to see my Lady when she asks for you, and 
 to make the house pleasant for my Lord." 
 
 "I will do anything you tell me," she said, 
 sadly. 
 
 " Dear Lady Jemima, I don't mean to dictate !" 
 I began to say ; but she stopped me. 
 
 " Yes, you shall dictate !" said she. " You shall 
 command, and I will obey. It is fit that I should 
 humble myself before you, aye, even in the dust 
 that I should be humbled in the eyes of all 
 the world if so I make any atonement for my 
 sins." 
 
 I could not let this pass. It seemed to mo 
 such a dreary notion, and at the same time such a 
 false one, that I felt I must speak. 
 
 " Dear madam, why should you think of making 
 any such atonement ?" I said. " Surely the one 
 oblation of our Lord, once offered, is a sufficient 
 atonement and satisfaction for the sins of the 
 whole world, let alone yours and mine : and no 
 suffering of ours, no voluntary humiliation or 
 penance, will add anything to its virtue. Only 
 cast all your care and sin on Him, and leave Him 
 to lay upon you such crosses as He sees best : I 
 don't think we need be afraid of having too much 
 ease in this world, if we are willing to bear tho 
 burdens and do the tasks He provides for us. 
 And if we go to work making burdens and tasks 
 
 22
 
 338 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 for ourselves doing our own work I am afraid 
 we are in great danger of neglecting His." 
 
 I doubted how she would take my little sermon. 
 She did not seem displeased, however, but said we 
 would talk of it again. I helped her to undress, 
 and got her to bed. 
 
 " I do not see how you can find any rest on 
 such a bed !" I said, feeling how hard and uneven 
 it was. " I wish you would let me make it up 
 comfortably." 
 
 "Do as you will!" said she, wearily, leaning 
 back in her chair. I looked out into the gallery, 
 and seeing one of the maids, I bade her bring 
 a matrass and quilt from an unused room near by, 
 wherewith I made Ihe bed as nicely as I could. 
 The poor lady could not help a sigh of relief and 
 satisfaction, as she lay down. Then I sent Dolly 
 down for a manchet and a cup of cream, and 
 persuaded Lady Jemima to eat a little. She 
 promised me that she would lie still and try 
 to sleep, and asked me to come in again after a 
 while, kissing me at parting. As I shut the door, 
 I heard her sobs burst forth, but I did not return, 
 thinking that she would at last weep herself to 
 sleep. 
 
 I found Betty up and dressed, and in due time 
 took her in to see and kiss her mother. My dear 
 Lady looked very lovely in her paleness, but 
 Madam would not let her speak a word to any one, 
 which was no more than right, of course, though 
 Betty was inclined to murmur thereat, till Madam
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 339 
 
 explained to lier the reason ; after which she 
 seemed hardly to dare to breathe. She was sadly 
 disappointed in the babes. 
 
 "They are so red and spotty they are not 
 nearly as pretty as kittens," said she, pouting 
 a little : " I think they look more like the young 
 rats Ambrose showed me." 
 
 My Lord nearly exploded into a laugh at this 
 criticism, and my Lady smiled, but Mrs. Brewstei 
 was indignant. 
 
 I explained to Betty that all very young babes 
 looked so, and that they would grow pretty in time. 
 
 "Will they?" she asked, wistfully. "When 
 will they get their eyes open?" 
 
 This was too much for my Lord, who fled 
 precipitately into the gallery. But, at that mo- 
 ment, one of the babies opened his eyes and 
 showed that they were blue. I made Betty slip 
 her finger into one of the little hands, which closed 
 on it at once, and Betty was more than satisfied. 
 
 Since that time we have gone on very quietly, 
 My Lady is not so strong as we could wish, 
 out the doctor says it is only because she exerted 
 herself too much just at first, and that a long rest 
 Avill set all right again. The babies are all' that 
 any one could desire, stout, well-grown, and 
 healthy. Betty sees new beauties and wonders 
 in them every day, and would, if she were per- 
 mitted, nurse them all day long. She does not 
 show the least jealousy of them, but seems to 
 rejoice in all the attention and admiration they
 
 34 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 receive. Only the other morning I found her 
 taking Anne severely to task for something she 
 had said. As I entered, she appealed to me 
 in great excitement : 
 
 " Anne says my nose is broke, and that nobody 
 will care for me any more," said she, half crying ; 
 " and it is not true, is it, Margaret ? She says I 
 shall be nobody, now that there is an heir, and" - 
 
 " Anne is a very bad girl to say such things !" 
 I answered her; and then turning to the girl, 
 I reproved her sharply ; whereto she answered me 
 at first saucily enough ; but when I said I should 
 speak to Mrs. Judith, she cooled down and begged 
 my pardon. I have forbid her speaking to Betty 
 hereafter, and have told her plainly that I shall 
 complain to Mrs. Judith if she disobeys me, or if I 
 hear any more of her pert speeches. 
 
 Lady Jemima continues very ill, with a kind of 
 low fever, and her mind is worse than her body. 
 From thinking herself all but a saint, with her 
 penances and fastings, she has gone round to the 
 opposite extreme, and now believes herself such a 
 sinner that there can be no hope for her. It is 
 painful to see how woe-begone and sorrowful she 
 is. I spend as much time with her as I can, and 
 try to cheer her up : and I really think she likes 
 to have me with her. I have not encouraged her 
 to talk to me of her feelings about Walter. I 
 believe such things are almost always best kept to 
 oneself, and I am afraid of her saying what she 
 will be sorry for by and by : but I read to her, and
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 341 
 
 tell her stories about the poor folks in tho village 
 and what happens in the family, and sometimes ] 
 sit by her in silence whole hours at a time, busy 
 with my needle. 
 
 For myself, I can only say I am as happy as 
 the day is long happier than I ever believed any- 
 body could be in this world. My engagement is 
 now spoken of as a matter of course, and my Lord 
 treats me as a daughter or younger sister, and will 
 have me receive all tokens of outward respect, as 
 one of the family. I think Mrs. Judith was a little 
 shocked at first, but she is reconciled now, and is 
 quite sure that all is for the best, especially since 
 she has found out that my mother was a Seymour, 
 and my father's mother a grandchild of my Lord 
 Falkland. But setting that aside, 1 do think she 
 loves me enough for my own sake not to grudge 
 me any good fortune. Walter has wTitten to 
 mother and Richard, and also to Aunt Willson, 
 which, he says truly, is only her due, since she 
 has been so kind to me. I would love to be 
 married at home, in my dear father's own church, 
 but the journey is a long one, and I don't know 
 how that will be. At any rate, Walter has 
 promised that I shall go very soon to visit 
 them all. I see him every day. My Lord begins 
 to fret at the wedding being put off, and to say 
 that Bess can do well enough without me : but I 
 am quite content that matters should rest as they 
 are for tho present. I am sure I shall never 
 be happier than I am now.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 November 30. 
 
 Y journal is not very regularly Kept, 
 now-a days, I have so much to do and 
 to think about. 
 
 Letters have come from home, and 
 from Aunt Willson. They all write very kindly, 
 and dear mother is greatly pleased. She says she 
 is thankful to have seen and liked Walter, for she 
 would hardly have felt like giving me to a stranger. 
 Dick writes gravely, after his fashion, and Aunt 
 Willson bluntly, after hers. She says she had a 
 shrewd guess how matters were going when she 
 saw Walter in London, and she believes I am 
 about to do well. 
 
 "I have only one bit of advice to give thee, child," 
 she says ; " and that is, never, on any account, to 
 speak to any human being, however near and dear, 
 of thy husband's faults and short comings, nor let 
 any one talk to you. I dare say you wonder that 
 I should think such advice necessary, but : tis a 
 rock which has wrecked the happiness of many a 
 married pair. Amend what thou canst, and what 
 (342)
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 343 
 
 thou canst not amend, bear with patience and love, 
 in God's name. For the rest I daresay you will 
 do well enough. You were brought up as a gentle- 
 woman, and you are young enough to mold your 
 habits where they need molding. You will have 
 a second mother in Madam Corbet, who is one of 
 the chosen ones. I send you some matters for 
 your fitting out, and likewise some money for your 
 purse." 
 
 The " matters " turn out to be a great mail filled 
 with beautiful stuffs and silks, such as I never 
 thought to wear, with store of fine linen and laces, 
 and a set of pearl jewels, good enough for a coun- 
 tess. But that I know that my aunt is rich, and 
 that it is a pleasure for her to be giving, I should 
 feel oppressed with her bounty. I have had beau- 
 tiful presents from all the family. 
 
 I must not forget to say that Felicia is also 
 going to be married to a rich merchant of London, 
 a worthy man, Aunt Willson says, but a great 
 Presbyterian, and very strict in all his notious. 
 Aunt says he hath altogether converted Felicia 
 to his own way of thinking, insomuch tLat she 
 looks upon a Bishop as Antichrist in person, and 
 believes that no prayer read from a book can 
 possibly meet with any acceptance. 
 
 My new uncle sends me a fine shawl or mantle, 
 of some kind of Eastern stuff, called crape, white 
 and embroidered in heavy silk, with roses and 
 other flowers, in quite a wonderful way; also a 
 treatise by Mr. Baxter, a young Presbyterian
 
 344 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 divine, which I have not yet found time to look at. 
 Felicia sends me nothing, save a civilly scornful 
 note, in which she says she is glad I have played 
 my cards so well, and that I am going to be mar- 
 ried the words underlined to Mr. Corbet. For 
 her own part she is content with her lot, and would 
 rather be the wife of a godly, honest merchant, 
 than of any hanger on of a great family. I did 
 not show the note to "Walter, for I knew it would 
 vex him. For myself I care not for her venom, 
 which hath lost its power to sting me ; but I am 
 sorry for her husband. She sends her respects to 
 Lady Jemima, and bids me tell her that she 
 (Felicia) has seen the error and darkness of her 
 ways, and the wickedness of the scheme in which 
 they had both been engaged, and hopes her Lady- 
 ship may have grace to repent the same. I was 
 not going to tell Lady Jemima the message, but 
 she heard I had received letters, and at last I 
 showed her Felicia's. 
 
 " How I was deceived in her, as well as iu my- 
 self !" said she, sighing deeply, as she returned me 
 the letter. " My fine scheme has vanished into 
 air, like the bubble it was." 
 
 " Perhaps it has vanished that something better 
 may come in its place," said I. 
 
 She shook her head sadly. "Nay," said she, 
 " I have learned more about myself since then." 
 
 She is better in health, but sadly out of spirits, 
 and seems to find little comfort in anything. I do 
 hope the Bishop will be able to set her right.
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 345 
 
 My Lady bath recovered faster than we could 
 have expected, sits up all day, and has walked a 
 little in the gallery, but does not yet get out or 
 come to the table. The babes are all that any one 
 can wish, and Betty now resents bitterly any 
 criticism upon their good looks. I think she loves 
 the blue-eyed babe, perhaps, the best of the two. 
 Her own health has not been good since the shock 
 of that day. She is again growing thin, and com- 
 plains of the pain in her back and side once more. 
 I cannot but fear that she received some injury in 
 the struggle. She hath made up her quarrel with 
 Aunt Jemima, and often sits by her bed and reads 
 to her in the Bible, though she has to spell a good 
 many words. 
 
 "We are to have a distinguished guest iu the 
 course of two or three weeks, no less a person 
 than Anthony Van Dyke, the great court painter. 
 Walter knew him well both abroad and in London, 
 and hearing he was to be in Exeter, invited him 
 to paint his mother's portrait, to which she con- 
 sented, on condition that Walter's and mine should 
 be painted also. My Lord is much taken with the 
 fancy of having my Lady and her children sit to 
 him, and I hope the plan will be carried out; but 
 it seems doubtful whether the great man can stay 
 so long in this west country. Walter says he is a 
 very fine gentleman, and is glad that the king gives 
 him encouragement to stay in this country.
 
 346 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 December 10. 
 
 The Bishop hath been with us nearly a week, 
 holding his visitation, and especially inquiring into 
 the condition of the moorland parishes, which he 
 finds sad enough; no preaching save perhaps 
 once or twice a year, no catechising, the young 
 folk growing up like utter heathen, knowing no 
 more of the word of God (so Walter says, who 
 hath accompanied my Lord in most of his journeys), 
 than so many Turks or Indians. They believe 
 enough, however, in the devil and his servants, in 
 witches, pixies, moormen, Jack Lanterns, night 
 crows, and what not ; and through fear of such like 
 creatures live all their lives in most cruel bondage. 
 
 The Bishop is greatly exercised by this state of 
 things, and hath a great many schemes for im- 
 proving the condition of these poor folks, by send- 
 ing them faithful preachers, and establishing 
 schools among them. He hath already found a 
 mistress for one of theso schools, in the person of 
 Mabel Wmne, an excellent woman in the village, 
 and daughter of a substantial farmer, who being 
 single, and in a manner left alone by the death of 
 all her friends, desires to devote her life to some 
 such good work. Jane Atkins tells me that Mabel 
 was for a long time head girl of the school, and a 
 good scholar, though proud and high-spirited, but 
 that having caused the maiming and final death of 
 a friend, by pushing her down in a sudden fit of 
 passion, the sad event so changed her that sho 
 hath ever since sought her pleasure in doing good
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 347 
 
 offices among her poor neighbors, nursing the sick, 
 .and so forth. She seems just the person to carry 
 out the Bishop's plan, especially as she is by no 
 means poor, but hath enough to support her com- 
 fortably, in a simple way. 
 
 Lady Jemima hath had many talks with the 
 Bishop, and I think is in a fair way of regaining 
 her peace of mind. She seems for a day or two 
 past quite cheerful, and at last, at my Lord's ear- 
 nest entreaty, came down-stairs to supper. I was 
 sorry, for I knew "Walter would be there, and I 
 dreaded their meeting ; but it passed very nicely, 
 she wishing him joy with a sweet smile, and saying 
 most kind things of me ; but, withal, I saw tears 
 come into her eyes as she took her seat. I don't 
 know whether Walter suspects aught or not : I am 
 sure he shall never hear it from me. 
 
 After supper she told me that she was tired, and 
 would withdraw. I went with her to her room, 
 and when there she told me that she had been 
 telling the Bishop about her scheme for a nunnery, 
 aad that he had put another plan in her head, 
 namely, to turn her house near Exeter into a 
 refuge for orphan girls from the city, where they 
 might be trained to usefulness and piety, and 
 fitted to earn an honest and comfortable living. 
 "He says," she continued, "that I might always 
 have six or eight such }'oung maidens in my 
 family, and he would have mo live among them 
 myself, and oversee them. Is not that a pretty 
 castle in the air?" sho added, sorrowfully smiling.
 
 348 JLady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 "Indeed, I think it a much prettier one than 
 your nunnery," I answered, " and one much more 
 easy to erect on firm ground." 
 
 " Aye," said she. " My sisterhood has turned 
 out finely, with one sister marrying a priest, and 
 another a Presbyterian." (For it is quite settled 
 now that Mrs. Priscilla and Mr. Penrose are to 
 make a match of it. I need not have been so 
 distressed at breaking the poor man's heart. Tis 
 something easier mended than Betty 'schiuaimage.) 
 " But I feel myself unfitted for such a work and 
 responsibility, otherwise I would welcome the 
 suggestion at once. As it is, I shall not put it 
 away, but consider upon it, and consult my sister." 
 
 I do hope the plan will succeed. I am sure 
 Lady Jemima will be better and happier in a 
 house of her own, than she is here, and also that 
 this house will be better without her. The desire 
 for employment and for doing good, which here 
 makes her only troublesome, will be well laid out 
 on a family of her own. 
 
 December 10. 
 
 My dear child seems better again, and once 
 more goes about the house, and looks after her 
 fowls and other pets, and nurses her little brothers, 
 though the latter not so much as she would like, 
 ecause their weight makes her shoulder ache. 
 Still I am very uneasy about her. She grows 
 thin, and has a little cough, and two or three 
 times she has had something like a fainting fit,
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 349 
 
 save that her face turns brownish, instead of pale. 
 She is wonderful happy in her spirit, and all her 
 old irritability seems entirely gone. 
 
 The great painter is come, and is at work on 
 "Walter's and his mother's pictures. He is a won- 
 derful courtly gentleman, with a quick eye, which 
 nothing escapes. He hath already expressed a 
 wish to paint Betty, saying that she has one of the 
 most lovely and touching faces he ever saw : to 
 which my Lord and Lady gave their consent, and 
 are mightily pleased, as is Betty herself. But 
 Mary does not like it at all, and says she hopes 
 there may be nothing wrong, but it stands to reason 
 that the gentleman cannot put so much life into 
 his pictures without taking it out of the people he 
 paints ; and that Betty has none to spare, she 
 being weakly already. I think Mrs. Judith is 
 much of the same mind, though she will not own it. 
 
 The matter is quite settled as to Lady Jemima's 
 orphan-house. ^ie is to be the head of the family, 
 with a suitable establishment ; and is to begin 
 with six young girls, not of the very poorest, but 
 from clergymen's families, and the like. This is 
 by the Bishop's advice, who says that less is done 
 for this class than for any other. One is to be the 
 child of an artist, a great friend of Mr. Van Dyke's, 
 and worse than an orphan, her mother having 
 deserted her child, and the poor father, all but 
 distracted, desires to go abroad, but has no one 
 with whom to leave the poor young maid, who is 
 only six years old. Mr. Van Dyke desires tho
 
 35o Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 privilege of paying her necessary expenses (the 
 care and safety he gracefully says can never be 
 paid for), and he hath given Lady Jemima a 
 hundred pounds. It shows how really humbled 
 dear Lady Jemima is, that she took the money 
 without a demur. She is much more cheerful 
 since she hath been engaged with this plan, and 
 rejoices with trembling in the hope of present for- 
 giveness and favor. She has long chats with 
 Dame Yeo, and I think the old woman hath done 
 her much good. Every one notices the difference 
 in her, and even her face is changed. She does 
 not see Walter often, and when she does, she meets 
 him as a brother : but I can see it costs her a 
 pang. 
 
 Ah me ! It seems very hard that the happiness 
 of one should cost the misery of another : but I 
 believe what she says is true, and that "Walter 
 would never have thought of her, even if I had 
 never come to the Court to live. * She is two }-ears 
 older than he, for one thing, and a woman always 
 seems older than a man at the same age ; and then 
 all their notions are so different. The only wonder 
 to me is, how she should ever have fancied him. 
 
 December 20. 
 
 Betty's picture is nearly done, and is wondrously 
 beautiful. Some of the family think it flattered, 
 but I do not. It is only that Mr. Van Dyke has 
 seized upon her most lovely expression, that which 
 her face wears when she is saying hoi prayers, or
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 35 1 
 
 nursing her little brothers, or looking upon some- 
 thing which pleases her a sunset, or the like. 
 Mr. Van Dyke himself thinks it the best picture he 
 hath painted in these parts. "When it was finished, 
 Betty looked at it long and wistfully. 
 
 " Is it really like me ?" she asked. 
 
 " Indeed it is," said I. 
 
 "I am glad of it," she said, and took another 
 long look at the picture. " My little brothers will 
 see it and know what I was like, and I think papa 
 will love to look at it." 
 
 She has several times lately said things of this 
 kind, which led me to think that she herself believes 
 she will not live long. I cannot help feeling the 
 same myself. Nobody ever sees a fault in her now 
 not a pettish word or look ever escapes her, and 
 instead of thinking all the time of herself, as she 
 used to do when I first came here, all her care is 
 for other people : and she never loses a chance of 
 pleasing and helping those around her. She is much 
 interested in her aunt's scheme of the orphan-house, 
 and has tried to work for it by hemming sheets and 
 napkins, and the like, but she can sew and knit only 
 for a few minutes at a time, because of the pain in her 
 shoulder. I fear she will soon leave us. And yet 
 why should I say fear ? 'Twould be a blessed 
 change for her, and I am sure she is ripe for it. 
 
 I have been to Exeter with my Lady Jemima, to 
 seo her house there, and help her choose matters 
 for her housekeeping. The place is called, in the 
 neighborhood, " Lady House," arid was once a
 
 352 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 small convent of gray nuns. Ifc is in good repair 
 and mostly well furnished, and there is a gallery 
 with cells on each side, which she will fit up as 
 bed-rooms for her older girls. She will have a 
 nursery for the young ones, and is looking about 
 for a suitable nurse for them. I think she will 
 take the oldest girl in Lady Rosamond's school, 
 who is good and steady, and understands spinning 
 and knitting, as well as all sorts of needlework, 
 coarse and fine. "We stayed at the palace, and I 
 think Mrs. Hall, the Bishop's lady, has quite over- 
 come in her mind her old prejudice against married 
 clergymen. She was remarking to me on the 
 beautiful order and peace of the household the 
 servants so well behaved and attentive, and so 
 happy each in his or her own place the maids 
 trained so as they may make good wives and 
 mothers, and carefully instructed in religion by 
 Mrs. Hall herself ; the children so well bred and 
 restrained, yet withal so cheerful, and on such 
 happy terms of respect and intimacy with both 
 father and mother. I ventured to say to her : 
 
 " Do you think the Bishop would be a happier 
 or a better man if he were condemned to a lonely, 
 solitary life, with no home, and no wife or children 
 to cheer him after his labors? And is he not 
 better prepared to sympathise with both the joys 
 and sorrows of his flock, from having experienced 
 some of the same ?" 
 
 " Maybe so !" said she, and then presently she 
 sighed a very deep, sorrowful sigh, mcthought.
 
 TJie Corbet Chronicles. 353 
 
 I knew well enough what she was thinking of. 
 She nas three orphan maids from Exeter, and one 
 for whom Walter specially made interest from 
 Plymouth, the child of an old sea captain, lately 
 dead of a fever, besides the little child from London, 
 who is now at the Court, and sleeps in Lady Jemi- 
 ma's room. She is a very pretty, gentle little 
 creature, full of play, and of wonder at all she 
 sees, having never before been out of London. 
 Betty has introduced her to the fowls and the cat 
 and kittens, and hath also made over to her, her 
 great linen baby, which I made when I first came 
 here. Lady Jemima thinks there never was such 
 another child made. 
 
 Christmas is close at hand, when we are to have 
 great revels, as is the custom here. Mr. Van Dyke 
 tells us a deal about the manner of keeping the 
 holiday in the Low Countries, and of St. Nicholas 
 (whom they call Santa Claus,) coming with gifts to 
 put in the children's socks and shoes when they are 
 asleep. Betty and the little Catharine are much 
 interested, and wish the saint would come hither. 
 
 Last Christmas I was at home, and dear father 
 preached in the church, and afterward superin- 
 tended the giving away of the Christmas dole of 
 bread and blankets, and a fine plum bun to each 
 child in the school. I little thought then how 
 matters would be changed with me before Christ- 
 mas came round again. 
 
 Mv Lady now goes down-stairs, and hath even 
 been out into the garden. She seems better in 
 
 23
 
 354 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 health, and more light-hearted that I have ever 
 known her, and has lost much of the melancholy 
 expression which used to mark her face. My Lord 
 is even more devoted to her than ever. He is no 
 more captious and disposed to quarrel with "Walter, 
 as he used to be, but makes him very welcome, and 
 I think consults him a good deal upon business 
 matters. He is a good deal perplexed and annoy- 
 ed because the neighboring magistrates and gentry 
 urge him to prosecute some of his tenants, who are 
 Puritans, and seldom or never attend the parish 
 church a thing he is no "ways disposed to do. 
 David Lee, the farmer, of whom I spoke once be- 
 fore as having some of his neighbors meet for 
 prayers in his house, has given up the farm on 
 which he and his have lived for I don't know how 
 long, and is going to the new plantations in 
 America, along with John Starbuck, from the Mill 
 Heads, whose brother is there already. David is 
 brother to old Uncle Jan Lee, down at the Cove, 
 and nearly as old a man, though not so infirm ; 
 but he has two stout sons, and three daughters, 
 one of whom is betrothed to Ephraim Starbuck, 
 and ho says he values his religious liberty more 
 than his home. My Lord is much grieved, and 
 has tried to prevail on him to remain, promising 
 him protection and countenance, but failing to 
 move him, he has (so Walter says), dealt most 
 liberally with him, and given him some valuable 
 presents in the way of stock and tools. My Lord 
 thinks the old man is throwing away his own life
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. $55 
 
 and those of his family ; but Walter is more hope- 
 ful. He says the land over there is good, and the 
 harbors excellent, and he believes the new colony 
 may in time become a place of importance. He 
 tells me the colonists have begun by establishing 
 schools, and have even founded a college, which 
 seems odd enough. "What will they do with a col- 
 lege out there, among the savages ?
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 January 3. 
 
 OW ill have I treated this poor faithful 
 journal of mine ! And I fear 'tis like to 
 fare even worse, in the future. I can 
 hardly realize it, but such is the fact. I 
 arn going to be married the day after to-morrow ; 
 whereas I had not expected such an event before 
 June, at the nearest; and my poor dear child, 
 Lady Betty, is the good fairy who has brought all 
 this about. But I will go back and tell my story 
 in an orderly manner. 
 
 There was great bustle and interest in making 
 ready for the holidays more even than usual, for 
 my Lord meant to celebrate the birth of his sons, 
 by giving a good piece of beef, and a fine pudding 
 to each one of the cottagers. He was to have had 
 a feast for them at the Court, but on account of 
 my Lady's health, and for some other reasons, that 
 is put off till next summer. Then the school chil- 
 dren were to be feasted at my Lady's expense, and 
 a Christmas gift made to each, and all the maid 
 servants were to have new gowns; all of which 
 involved a good deal of work for some of us. 
 (356)
 
 The Corbet ^Chronicles. 357 
 
 Most of the shopping fell upon Lady Jemima 
 and myself, and we had a fine time going to Bidde- 
 ford, and selecting gowns, ribbons, and the like; 
 and I was surprised to see how ranch interest 
 dear Lady Jemima took in the purchase. I could 
 not have thought it was in her, to care so much for 
 such a matter. She is a great deal more cheerful 
 than I have ever seen her, and really grows pretty 
 and plump, now that she has left off her fasting 
 and sitting, np of nights. Every one sees the 
 change. I am sure she is very good to love me as 
 she does. I don't believe I could do it, in her place. 
 Betty was very grave and thoughtful for two or 
 three days before Christmas, and I wondered what 
 was in her head. On Christmas-Eve, as she and 
 I were sitting in my Lady's room my Lady nurs- 
 ing one of the babes, and Betty holding the other, 
 I was glad to sit still, for I was thoroughly tired, 
 and the quiet w-as very grateful to me. We had 
 been silent for some minutes, when Betty spoke : 
 
 "Mamma, why don't Margaret and Walter get 
 married? I thought that was the next thing, 
 when people were betrothed." 
 
 "And so it is, my dear one!" answered her 
 mother ; " but then you see Margaret has a little 
 nursling whom she does not like to leave. What 
 do you think you would do without her ?" 
 
 " But she would not go so very far awa}'. She 
 would only be at Corby-End," said Betty. Then, 
 after a little silence, " Mamma, I should like to seo 
 Margaret married."
 
 358 Lady Betty's Governess; or, 
 
 " "Why, so you shall, and be bridesmaid too, if 
 you like," answered her mother. " Why not V" 
 
 " Then, mamma, I should like them to be mar- 
 ried pretty soon," replied Betty ; '" because I don't 
 believe I shall be here a great while longer." 
 
 This was the first time she had spoken so plainly, 
 though she had hinted as much a good many 
 times lately. My Lady started and looked anx- 
 iously at her. 
 
 " Why do you say that, my darling ?" she asked ; 
 " don't you feel as well ?" 
 
 " I don't know, mamma," said Betty. " I feel 
 languid and weary, and there is a feeling here," 
 (pressing her hand to her heart,) " which I never 
 had before you were ill, and which tells me that I 
 shall not live long." 
 
 "Dear child, that is only a fancy," said her 
 mother, kissing her. " You must drive away such 
 gloomy thoughts." 
 
 " They are not gloomy," said this strange child ; 
 " and they are not fancies, either. Something calls 
 me away all the time, and at night, when I lie 
 awake, I hear such strange, beautiful music in the 
 air and among the trees. But I wont talk about 
 it, if it makes you unhappy, dear mamma," she 
 added, seeing the tears in her mother's eyes ; 
 " only, if you please, I should so much like to have 
 Walter and Margaret married very soon. Please, 
 wont 3 r ou have it so ?" 
 
 " We will see," answered her mother. 
 
 Betty was silent, but I could see she was turning
 
 The Corbel Chronicles. 309 
 
 the matter over in her mind, as her fashion is ; 
 and when she went to bed she spoke of it again. 
 
 " Margaret, if you want to make me very happy, 
 you will be married very soon. I am quite sure 
 that I have only a little time to live now, and I do 
 so want to see you married. Please do let me 
 speak to papa about it." 
 
 What could I say ? I saw how much in earn- 
 est she was, and I believed with herself, that she 
 had not long to live, and that she might go from 
 us in any of the fainting fits she had lately. She 
 saw, I suppose, that I was moved, and urged me 
 again, even with tears, to let her speak to my 
 Lord. 
 
 " Don't cry !" said I, alarmed ; " you shall do 
 as you please, but you must not cry, or you will 
 bring on one of your bad times again." 
 
 But the bad time came, in spite of me. She 
 fainted, and it was more than ten minutes before 
 we could bring her round. I began to think she 
 had gone for good, but she breathed again at last, 
 her breath coining in most painful gasps and sobs. 
 She is weaker after every one of these fits, and 
 longer in recovering herself. When she mentioned 
 the subject again, I told her she should do as she 
 liked, and at last she went to sleep, quite content 
 and happy. I did not leave her save to go to my 
 room and put on my wrapper. As I went out into 
 the gallery, I met Mr. Van Dyke, with his hands 
 full of toys and sweetmeats. 
 
 " See here, Mistress Merton," said he. " Cannot
 
 360 Lady Betty's Governess ; or, 
 
 we put these into the shoes of my little lady and 
 Catharine, and so give them a pleasant surprise, 
 and let them think the good Saint Nicholas has 
 been to visit them?" 
 
 I was well pleased with the fancy, and we went 
 to my Lady Jemima's room, where the little 
 Catharine sleeps. Lady Jemima entered into 
 the sport and we filled the little socks and shoes 
 with sugar-plums and toys. Then I went back 
 and lay down by Betty, whom I did not moan to 
 leave that night. 
 
 Early in the morning, long before dawn, wo 
 were roused by the schoolboys, and the young 
 men and maids from the village, coming to sing 
 carols under the window. Mrs. Judith and her 
 maids were up early, as it was, and they were- 
 called into the hall and regaled with cakes and 
 spiced ale. Soon the whole household was astir, 
 and Betty would get up and be dressed with the 
 rest, to meet the family at breakfast. I did not 
 oppose her, for she seemed strong and bright for 
 her, and besides I did not believe that anything 
 would make much difference. There is that in 
 her face nowadays that I have seen too often to 
 mistake its meaning. She was very merry this 
 morning, and much delighted at finding the St. 
 Nicholas gifts in her shoes. 
 
 " I know how Saint Nicholas looks, Margaret !" 
 said she. " He hath fine dark eyes, and curling 
 hair, and a peaked beard, and he paints beautiful 
 pictures."
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 361 
 
 So I saw that she had guessed the riddle at 
 once. Little Catharine, however, was not so quick 
 in her apprehension, but I believe thinks, to this 
 hour, that St. Nicholas paid her a visit, and only 
 regrets that she was not awake to see him. 
 
 Betty had made a couple of fine handkerchiefs 
 for Christmas gifts to her father and mother, 
 doing the open hems very nicely, with a little of 
 my help ; and after prayers she had the pleasure 
 of giving them, and seeing them admired to her 
 heart's content. 
 
 "And please yon, my Lord, I have to beg for a 
 Christmas box!" she said, with a little formal 
 courtesy. " You know you promised me one." 
 
 " Why, so I did, Bess, and what shall it be ?' 
 said my Lord, well pleased. 
 
 " Let me whisper in your ear, papa," said she. 
 
 ^e bent his stately head down to her he 
 is very indulgent to her, nowadays and then, as 
 she whispered eagerly to him, he stared, laughed 
 heartily, and bade her ask Walter, since he was 
 the person most concerned. 
 
 " I think he will be willing, don't you, papa ?" 
 said Betty : " he is always so kind and obliging." 
 
 My Lord roared with laughter again, and said 
 he did not doubt he would be willing, since it was 
 to oblige his cousin. And so I hardly know how, 
 'twas all settled in an hour that we were to be 
 married on Twelfth Day, and so go home to 
 Corby-End. 
 
 It grieves me that I must be married away from
 
 362 Lady Bettys Governess ; or, 
 
 mother, but there is no help for it, and "Walter 
 promises to take me home for a visit so soon as 
 the spring opens. 
 
 The Christmas revels went off very nicely. "We 
 all went to church, my Lord and Lady, and all 
 and my Lord staj-ed to the sacrament a thing I 
 never knew him do before. The church was 
 beautifully adorned with ivy and holly, and such 
 late flowers as the mild"season often spares till 
 Christmas. Everybody was dressed in their best, 
 and all were exchanging good wishes and Christ- 
 inas words. I could not help shedding somo 
 tears as I remembered last Christmas, when I 
 was at home, and dear father was alive and well : 
 but for all that I felt wonderfully tranquil and 
 happy. Old Uncle Jan Lee was at church, and 
 so I was glad to see were his brother and all his 
 family. My Lord would take no denial, but would 
 have them all up at the Court for their Christmas 
 dinner Will Atkins and his wife, and all so wo 
 had a great gathering, and a very merry one, but 
 all sober and decorous enough. Betty lay down 
 and had a nap after dinner, and so was ready to 
 see the revels in the evening, when we had 
 the Christmas murmurs Lord Christmas, Damo 
 Mince Pie and all the rest, with a fine copy 
 of verses from the schoolmaster, in which he 
 compared our poor babes to Castor and Pollux, 
 and I know not what other heathen gods. I feai 
 he was rather scandalized by our levity, for no 
 one could help laughing, but my Lord thanked him
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 363 
 
 and made him a handsome present, so he was 
 consoled. 
 
 Mr. Penrose was not with us, he keeping his 
 Christmas at Sir Thomas Fulton's. And so ended 
 our Christinas day. 
 
 Since then I have lived in a kind of dream, 
 recalled to this lower world, however, about once 
 an hour, by Mrs. Brewster, who wants me to try 
 on something, or to give my judgment on some 
 solemn matter of trimming or pattern. But I am 
 sure I shall never know what to do with so many 
 fine clothes as they are preparing for me. It is 
 very silly in me, I dare say, but I cannot help 
 wishing I were not so poor. If my poor dear 
 father's ship had come home, now ! 
 
 January 5. 
 
 I have to-day had the greatest yes, the very 
 greatest surprise of my life, greater even than that 
 of finding myself on the eve of marriage to a great 
 gentleman like "Walter. I was hearing Betty's 
 Latin lesson, which she will still keep up, though 
 she has dropped most of her other lessons these 
 short days, when Mrs. Judith herself came up, 
 and informed me that a gentleman was inquiring 
 for me and was awaiting me in the little parlor. 
 
 "A gentleman to see me you must surely be 
 mistaken, Mrs. Judith !" said I. 
 
 " Indeed I am not !" she asserted, with a merry 
 twinkle in her eye. " Tis a gallant young gentle- 
 man as I wish to see, and ho asks for Mrs.
 
 364 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 Margaret Merton. So go you down and see 
 him." 
 
 I arranged my dress and went down-stairs, 
 wondering who it could possibly be, and thinking 
 over all the gentlemen I had ever known, which 
 were not many. Somehow it never came into my 
 head to think of Dick, and yet when I opened tho 
 door of the little parlor, there he was, looking as 
 composed and grave in his sober riding suit, as if 
 he had but just come over from Chester to spend 
 Sunday at home. 
 
 I don't know what I said or did at first, save 
 that I cried, laughed, and talked all at once, till 
 suddenly a thought came over me, which made me 
 cry out : " Oh, Dick ! you have brought me no ill 
 news, have you ?" 
 
 " No, no ! very far from that," he answered me, 
 cheerfully. "Why, Meg! how you have grown, 
 and how handsome you are! The gentleman 
 who met me in the hall, and to whom I made 
 myself known, tells me that I am just in time, 
 for that you are to be married to-morrow. How 
 is that ? I thought the great event was to be put 
 off till spring." 
 
 I explained that the time had been shortened 
 to gratify my little lady, who was in delicate 
 health, and who was bent on seeing the wed- 
 ding. 
 
 " Aye, doubtless it was a great sacrifice !" said 
 he, in his old way. 
 
 " But Dick," said I, " what wind has blown you
 
 The Corbet Qiroiiicles. 365 
 
 hero ? I am sure something must have happened 
 more than common." 
 
 " A good wind, though a most unexpected one," 
 he answered. " The last one I ever thought of, I 
 am sure. Meg, my father's ship has come home, 
 safe and sound, anci with a wonderful rich freight. 
 My father's poor venture of three hundred odd 
 pounds is magnified tenfold, and more. Mr. 
 Gunning tells me that our fair share of the cargo 
 comes to five thousand pounds, and he is quite 
 willing to advance us the money upon it." 
 
 I could only sit and stare stupidly at him for a 
 moment. Then I burst out crying, and sobbed : 
 " Oh, if my poor father had but lived to see it !" 
 
 "He will not miss it where he is," answered 
 Richard, gravely. " But is it not wonderful ?" 
 
 " "Wonderful, indeed," said I. 'Tis like a chapter 
 of romance. I can hardly believe it." 
 
 "Nor could I, till I saw the ship herself, and 
 went on board of her, for you must know 
 I have been in Bristol ; and a fair and great city it 
 is. I have had a wearisome journey." 
 
 And here came in one of the men with a great 
 tray of refreshments, sent by Mrs. Judith ; and 
 while Richard was eating, came in first my Lady, 
 who made my brother welcome with her usual 
 grace and courtesy; and then "Walter and my 
 Lord, and the lawyer from Biddcford, who is hero 
 now, and there was a deal of talk about 
 business before I could get Dick to myself again. 
 But I did finally, and carried him off for a walk by
 
 366 Lady Betty s Governess ; or, 
 
 ourselves in the cliase, and he told me all about 
 home matters. How my mother took the news, 
 and how she loves the cottage too well to leave it, 
 but will add somewhat thereto, as she can do with 
 great convenience. How all our old neighbors 
 rejoiced in our good fortune, specially Damo 
 Crump, who is still alive, and who has alwa} r s pro- 
 phesied that the ship would come home sometime. 
 How Mr. Carey makes himself loved by all, both rich 
 and poor, save that he and Sir Peter Beaumont 
 do not well agree. Finally, and best of all, how 
 Dick himself is now to carry out the darling wish 
 of his heart, and go to Cambridge, to begin his 
 studies as soon as possible. 
 
 And so ends the day before my wedding day, 
 with all the content possible ; and as I look back 
 at the last year, and see how wonderfully I have 
 been preserved and helped, what friends I have 
 found on every side, and how the plans of mine 
 enemies have been frustrated and brought to 
 naught, my heart overflows with thankfulness and 
 joy, and I feel like consecrating myself anew and 
 more entirely than ever to Him who is the Father 
 of the Fatherless and the God of the widow. 
 
 Here ends all of my journal which I have seen fit 
 to transcribe for my daughters to read when 1 am 
 gone, as I feel that I soon shall be, to join my 
 honored parents and my dear Lady. 
 
 My married life hath not been wholly without 
 clouds, as what life is ? In the civil wars which
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 367 
 
 began soon after, my husband took part with 
 Parliament, and afterward served under the Pro- 
 tector, while my Lord was on the other side : yet 
 did that circumstance never wholly divide tho 
 families, and my husband was able to be of great 
 service to my Lord in protecting his property 
 from sequestration, But Walter was never satis- 
 fied with all the actions of Parliament, and was 
 wont to say that in many things they showed 
 themselves as oppressive and regardless of tho 
 laws and liberties of the land as ever the king and 
 his party had been. Yet did he adhere to Crom- 
 well, as being the only hope of the nation ; and 
 truly he made the English name respected as 
 it hath never been respected since. He made 
 tho Dutch, now so saucy, know their place, and 
 tho French likewise, and he interfered for the 
 poor Yaudois to some purpose. 
 
 Poor Lady Betty survived till Easter, gradually 
 growing weaker, but suffering little, and able to 
 keep up till the last. On Easter Sunday she 
 received the Sacrament, at her own earnest request, 
 Mr. Penrose having given her preparatory instruc- 
 tion. It being a fine warm day, she rode to the 
 parish church, sat out the whole service, and seemed 
 none the worse ; but the next morning, when Mary 
 went to call hei, sho was dead, having, as it seemed, 
 passed away without ever waking up. We all 
 grieved for her, and I think none more than my Lord, 
 to whom she had become very dear of late ; but wo 
 could not but fool that it was well with tho child.
 
 368 Lady Bettys Governess; or, 
 
 My Lady survived her daughter some four years. 
 After a decent time my Lord married again to a 
 very good womau, a widow lady with two daugh- 
 ters. She was a very good wife to my Lord, and 
 a kind mother to his sons, but she was never to 
 be compared to my own dear Lady. 
 
 Lady Jemima lives in her own house, with her 
 family of orphan maids about her, and is much 
 loved and respected. Little Catharine now a 
 fine tall young lady, is still with her, but she has 
 changed the rest of the family many times over, 
 and always for their advantage. She is indeed a 
 most excellent lady. 
 
 Felicia is still alive ; a sour, discontented woman, 
 rich, but feeling poor, and always imagining that 
 somebody is leugueing to rob her or impose upon 
 her. Her first fall in life I do think was when her 
 husband positively refused to let her put in any 
 claim to my father's estate, saying that he was 
 rich enough already, and that she ought to be 
 ashamed to ask for a penny, seeing she had been 
 brought up at my father's expense. Felicia scolded 
 and sulked, but he was firm, and for once she met 
 with her match. 
 
 Mr. Fowler is dead now, and poor Felicia lives 
 alone, having quarrelled with all her husband's 
 relations, and not being able to find a waiting 
 gentlewoman who will stay with her more than a 
 month at a time. She came to see me when I was 
 last in London, and entertained me with a cata- 
 logue of her sorrows, not the least of which was
 
 The Corbet Chronicles. 369 
 
 that my Aunt Willson, \vlio died at a great ago, 
 divided her largo fortune equally between Felicia 
 and my father's children. She says she is the 
 most unhappy woman in the world, and I dare 
 say she is right. 
 
 Richard went abroad just at the beginning of 
 tho trouble, as tutor to a young nobleman, and 
 did not return till the restoration, when he took 
 orders, and is now a useful, unambitious parish- 
 priest in Chester. I don't think he will ever be a 
 bishop, as I used to dream, and I don't believe he 
 wishes it ; but there is some hope that he will have 
 my father's living at Saintswell, and dwell :u the 
 dear old house where we were all born.