Lewie by Cousin Cicely

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This was by no means relished by the step-mother, who had no fancy for
matronizing daughters so nearly her own age, and who wished no less
fervently than the young ladies themselves, that something in the shape
of a husband would appear to carry each of them off. She never failed
after such a display of filial affection on their part to explain to
those near her; that the young ladies were her _step-daughters;_ and to
mention how odd it sounded to her when she was first married, to hear
those great girls as tall as herself, call her "mamma."

It was a beautiful evening in the pleasant month of July, when Agnes
entered the lovely village of Wilston, and drove through its one long
street, to the spacious and rather showy dwelling of Mr. Fairland. Agnes
had heard much of the beauty of Wilston, but her heart was now so
oppressed with many agitating emotions, at the near prospect of the new
and strange scenes upon which she was about to enter in so new a
character, that not even the loveliness of the landscape, with its
variety of hill, and dale, and wood-land, on the one hand, and on the
other the peaceful lake tinged with crimson by the setting sun, had
power to win her attention.

Yet we need not fear for Agnes, that in thus appearing in the character
of a governess, she will lose aught of her gentle dignity, or quiet
self-possession. Agnes was a _lady_ in every sense of the term, and
place her where you would, or under whatever circumstances, she would
invest her occupation with a dignity all her own, and make it honorable;
winning from all around her an involuntary respect and homage. Though
ever kind and amiable, and ready to oblige, she will never _cringe_ to
those who, by the favors of fortune, are placed for the time in
circumstances more prosperous than her own. Tried, she may be by their
arrogance, and airs of assumed superiority; but with the inward
conviction which in spite of her modesty she must possess, that in all
that is of real and true worth she is far above them, she will toil on
undisturbed in her vocation, anxious only to fulfil her duty towards
God, and toward those whom He has placed under her influence; and to
acquit herself well of the high responsibility resting upon her.

Mr. Fairland met Agnes at the door, with his kind pleasant face, and
with both hands extended to give her a cordial welcome to his roof. Mrs.
Fairland rose languidly from her chair to receive the governess, and
gave her a ceremonious, and to Agnes a most chilling greeting. The young
ladies were out walking; but presently a troop of noisy children, who
from some part of the grounds where they were at play, had seen the
arrival of the stranger, came bursting rudely into the room. These, as
Agnes supposed, were her future pupils, and a most unpromising set they
at first sight appeared.

The eldest, "Tiney," was a heavy, dull looking girl of about ten years
of age. Her eyes had no more brightness or expression in them than two
balls of lead, and her flabby colorless cheeks hung down each side of
her mouth, giving that feature much the expression of a bull-dog, while
a sullen fierceness about her face, increased the resemblance to that
animal. Her teeth, utterly unacquainted with the action of a brush, were
prominent, so that her lip seldom covered them, and her uncombed hair
hung rough and shaggy around her unattractive face. Agnes at once
guessed that this poor child was deficient in intellect, and unamiable
in temper.

The next, _Rosa,_ was a wild, handsome little gipsey, with eyes as black
as jet, and as bright as diamonds, a brilliant color shining through her
sunburnt cheek, and with straight black hair, no better cared for than
her sister Tiney's.

The third little girl, _Jessie,_ was very fair, with beautiful deep blue
eyes, and golden curling hair; but the curls were all in tangles, for no
one took the trouble to keep them in order, except on great occasions,
when the poor child was put to the torture of having it brushed and
combed, and laid in ringlets, which for the time were the special pride
of her mother.

"You'll have enough to do, Miss Agnes, to tame all these rough
spirits," said Mr. Fairland, "they have been running wild ever since we
left the city, and a more rude and ungoverned set of little desperadoes,
it has never been your lot to meet with, I'll venture to say." And then
addressing them, he said, "come here, children, what do you stand there
gaping for, with your thumbs in your mouths, as if you had never seen
anybody before? Tiney! Rosa, you witch! Jess, my chicken! come up here
this minute, and speak to Miss Elwyn."

But Tiney only pouted her ugly mouth and scowled; and Rosa, making a
sudden dart for her mother's chair, retreated behind it, peering out her
black eyes occasionally, to take a look at the stranger; while Jessie
ran and sprang into her father's lap, hiding her little tangled head on
his shoulder. And now a whooping and shouting made known the approach of
Master Frank, the son and heir, a young individual of about four years
of age, who, nothing daunted by the stranger's appearance, made for his
father's chair, and proceeded to dislodge his sister Jessie from her
seat, and to establish himself in her place. Jessie screamed, and
scratched, and pulled in vain. Frank, though younger, was much the
strongest, and the fight ended by the sudden descent of Miss Jessie to
the floor, and the ascension of Master Frank into the vacated place.

"Be quiet now, will you, Frank, and speak to Miss Elwyn," said his
father.

"Hallo! is that Miss Elwyn?" exclaimed Master Frank, aloud; "why,
C'lista said she was old and ugly."

"Well, C'listy didn't know, did she?" said his father.

"And Ev'lina said she'd train us well, and whip us, and shut us up, and
be awful cross all the time. She doesn't look like that, does she,
papa?"

"No, she does not," said his father; "and I guess Evelina must have been
mistaken too."

Agnes was all this time looking at Frank, very much amused, and laughing
quietly at the description which had been given of her to the children.

"You think I do not look so very terrible, then, Master Frank," said
she; "do you think you will ever like me?"

"I don't know," said Master Frank, boldly; "if you don't make me _mind,_
I'll like you."

"But she _is_ going to make you mind, Master Frank," said his father;
"and, do you know, I have promised Miss Elwyn that she shall do just
what she pleases with you all, and nobody shall interfere."

"In _school hours,"_ said Agnes.

"Yes, in school hours, and out of school hours, except when their mother
or I are present: they are always to obey you, Miss Elwyn. I wish that
to be understood in the family. But, my dear," said he to his wife,
"perhaps Miss Elwyn would like to change her dress before tea."

Mrs. Fairland languidly directed Tiney to show Miss Elwyn to her room;
but the only notice taken of this command by Miss Tiney was a stupid,
sullen stare. Agnes had risen to leave the room; but perceiving that
Tiney did not stir, she turned, and putting out one hand toward Rosa,
said, in her own bright, winning way:

_"This_ little black-eyed girl will show me the way, I'm sure."

There was no resisting the gentle kindness of Agnes, and the confidence
of little Rosa was won immediately. Coming out from behind her mother's
chair, she put her hand in that of Agnes, and led her up stairs into a
large room, on the second floor, overlooking the beautiful lake.

"What a very pleasant room!" said Agnes. "Is this to be mine?"

"Yes," answered Rosa, who, having once found her tongue, showed that she
could make very rapid use of it when she chose--"and that bed is yours,
and that one is for me and Jessie."

'"Jessie and _me_,' you mean, Rosa, do you not?"

"I'm the _oldest_," answered Rosa.

"I know that, Rosa; but recollect, whenever you speak of any _one_, no
matter who, in connection with yourself always to mention the other
person first. Will you remember that?"

"Yes, I'll try," answered Rosa. She then proceeded to inform Agnes, that
her mamma had wished to give her a little room on the other side of the
hall, but papa said she should have this room, because it was so
pleasant, and he had heard her say that she was so fond of the water.

"That was very kind of your papa," said Agnes; "and where does Tiney
sleep?"

"Oh, Tiney sleeps with Susan, because she has fits, you know."

_"Who_ has?--Susan?" asked Agnes.

"No, Tiney has fits, and nobody likes to take care of her but papa and
Susan."

Agnes was disappointed to find that she was not to have a room to
herself. "I came here to instruct these children," said she to herself,
"not to act in the capacity of nursery-maid. However, I will bear it
patiently for the present; perhaps I shall gain an influence over them,
by having them so constantly with me, that I could not acquire in any
other way. There is so much to be corrected in their habits and
language, besides their being so woefully ignorant!"

Agnes continued talking pleasantly to little Rosa, while she was
dressing; and when they went down stairs, hand in hand, the very
pleasantest relations appeared to be established between them.

"What shall we call you?" asked Rosa.

"You may call me 'cousin Agnes,' if you choose," she answered, "and if
your papa and mamma are willing."

"Oh, I shall like that!" said Rosa.

Soon after Agnes and little Rosa re-entered the sitting-room, the Misses
Fairland returned from their walk. They were gayly and showily attired
in the very height of the fashion, and entered the door talking and
laughing very loudly; but when introduced to Miss Elwyn, they stopped
and opened their eyes in unaffected amazement. As Agnes rose with
graceful ease to meet them, looking so lovely in her deep mourning
dress, and with her rich waving chesnut hair, simply parted on her
forehead, and gathered in a knot behind, there was a most striking
contrast between her and the gaudily dressed, beflounced, and beflowered
ladies, who were fashionably and formally curtseying, and presenting her
the tips of their fingers.

Though younger by some years than the youngest of the Miss Fairlands,
there was a dignified self-possession about Agnes, which was quite
astonishing to them. Though rather of the _hoyden-ish_ class themselves,
they could not fail at once to recognize the air of refinement which
marks the true lady, and while intending by their own appearance to
over-awe the new governess, they were so completely taken by surprise by
her perfect ease and composure of manner, that they alone appeared stiff
and awkward, and she unembarrassed and easy.

And this was the prim old-maidish governess they had been expecting!
this fresh, blooming, lovely looking girl! It was by no means a pleasant
surprise to the Misses Fairland. However, she was nothing but a
_governess_ after all; and could easily be kept in the back ground; it
was to Be hoped she would know her place and keep it.

The Misses Fairland made the mistake very common with persons of weak
mind, and little cultivation at that, and instead of judging of others
by their intrinsic worth, character, or intellect, formed their estimate
only by the outward circumstances in which they found them. Had this
same Agnes Elwyn come to make a visit to her far away cousins, in her
own carriage, and surrounded by external marks of wealth, they would
have been ready to fall down and worship her; but coming as a
_governess,_ and by the _stage,_ what notice could she expect from the
Misses Fairland! These young ladies had so often been made wretched, by
intentional slights from those in whose sphere they had aspired to move,
that they did not doubt Agnes would be rendered equally uncomfortable by
their own neglect.

The tea-bell rang, and the Misses Fairland hastened to take off their
bonnets and soon re-appeared at the tea-table, where they took up the
entire conversation, telling of all they had heard and seen, in their
calls through the village. For like the ancient Athenians, these young
ladies literally "spent their time in nothing else, but to hear or to
tell of some new thing."

In the midst of the conversation there was a sudden bustle, and Tiney
rose hastily from the table. Her father immediately left his chair, and
went round to her place, and took her by the arm. There was a ghastly
and disturbed look about poor Tiney's face, and an expression of
terrible malignity about her eye, and as she passed the chairs of her
little sisters, one screamed loudly and then the other, and when she
came near Agnes, it was with great difficulty that she too could resist
the inclination to scream with the pain, caused by a terrible pinch from
the fingers of Tiney, which left its mark upon her arm for many days.

Mr. Fairland led the child from the room, and as the door closed after
them, Agnes heard a succession of the most piercing shrieks, as if all
the strength of the sufferer's lungs were expended upon each one.

"Oh, dear! Susan is out, and your father will need assistance," said
Mrs. Fairland; "but really, these scenes have such an effect upon my
nerves, that I find it necessary to avoid them altogether."

"And so do I," said Miss Calista, "indeed I always suffer with a severe
headache after them."

"And they are so utterly disagreeable to me, to to be more candid than
either of you," said Miss Evelina, "that I always keep as far out of the
way as possible."

"Can I be of any use?" asked Agnes, partly rising and looking towards
Mrs. Fairland. She would have followed poor Tiney and her father
immediately, but did not wish to appear to pry into that of which
nothing had been mentioned to her, and of which they might not like to
speak out of their own family.

"Oh, do go, Miss Elwyn, if you have the _nerve,"_ said Mrs. Fairland.

The reader knows enough of Agnes to feel assured that her _nerves_ were
never in the way, if opportunity offered to make herself useful to the
suffering; and the moment Mrs. Fairland answered her, she left the room,
and, guided by those still piercing shrieks, she passed through a long
hall, and entered a small bath-room, where she found Mr. Fairland
holding the struggling Tiney, who presented a shocking appearance. Her
face was now quite purple, and the white froth stood about her mouth;
and her father was holding both of her hands in one of his, to quiet her
frantic struggles.

"Oh, bless you, Miss Agnes!" said Mr. Fairland, as soon as she opened
the door; "set that water running immediately till it is quite hot, and
take off this poor child's stockings and shoes. You see I can do
nothing."

As quickly and as quietly as possible Agnes did as she was directed; and
then also, by Mr. Fairland's direction, took down a bottle of medicine,
always kept ready for this purpose in the bath-room, and dropped some of
it for him. In a few moments, the shrieks subsided to moans, as Tiney
lay with her head back on her father's shoulder.

"Poor child!" said Mr. Fairland, wiping her lips and forehead, "she is a
dreadful sufferer."

"Has she been so long?" asked Agnes.

"Ever since her third year," answered Mr. Fairland, "though, at first,
the attacks were comparatively slight; but of late years they have grown
more and more severe. Her intellect, as you perhaps have already
noticed, is much weakened by them, and her temper, naturally very sweet,
is at times almost fiendish. It seems to be her great desire, while
suffering so intensely, to injure all within her reach."

Agnes now understood the reason of the screams of the children, and also
of the pinch she had received as Tiney passed her chair. When poor
Tiney's moans had become more faint, Mr. Fairland said:

"Agnes, will you sing? Music seems to soothe her more than anything
else, after the extreme suffering is over."

Agnes sang, with her marvellously sweet voice, a simple air: presently
poor Tiney turned her head, and fixed her half-closed eyes on Agnes'
face. Then she said, from time to time, in a dreamy way,
"Pretty!--sweet! Sing more;" and then she lay perfectly quiet, and soon
fell into a gentle slumber. Often and often, after that, when poor Tiney
was seized with these excruciating attacks, as soon as the first intense
suffering was over, she would say, "Cousin Agnes, sing!" and, from the
time she heard the gentle tones of Agnes' voice, she would be quiet and
gentle as a lamb. The effect could be likened to nothing but the calming
of the evil spirit which possessed the monarch of Israel, by the tones
of the sweet harp of David.

XIV.

THE SCHOOL IN THE WEST WING.

"Scatter diligently, in susceptible minds,
The germs of the good and beautiful,
They will develop there to trees, bud, bloom,
And bear the golden fruit of paradise."

Agnes found it no easy task to bring into training minds so ignorant and
so utterly undisciplined as those of her little pupils. Left entirely to
themselves, as they had been for many months, with a mother too indolent
to trouble herself about any systematic plan of government, and a father
too easy and good-natured to carry out the many plans he was ever
forming for their "breaking in;" scolded and fretted at by their older
sisters, to whom they were perfect torments; by turns playing
harmoniously, and then quarrelling most vigorously,--they roamed the
house and grounds, doing mischief everywhere, and bringing wrath upon
their heads at every turn.

With a perfect horror of anything like _study_, they had expected with
great dread the arrival of a governess, as putting a final stop to all
their fun and freedom. This dread had been in nowise diminished by the
constant remarks of their older sisters upon governesses in the
abstract, and their own expected governess in particular. One evening
with Agnes served to dispel the horror, so far as she was concerned,
though the dread of books was still as great as ever. Before the evening
was over, Agnes had them all round her, as she sat on the sofa, telling
them beautiful stories, and asking them questions.

"Have you any pretty flowers in the woods about here?" she asked.

"Oh, lots!" answered Rosa; "yellow flowers, and blue flowers, and white
flowers."

"Then if you would like to learn something of Botany, so as to know the
names of all these beautiful flowers, we will take many pleasant
rambles in the woods, and gather the lovely wild flowers, and I will
teach you how to press them."

"But we haven't got any _Botany books_," said little Jessie.

"Oh, I think we shall not need any _books_, for all the Botany I shall
teach you, Jessie; and if we do, we will take the leaves of the flowers
for the leaves of the books, and the flowers themselves for the
pictures. Do you not think we can make beautiful books that way? Jessie,
can you read?"

"_I_ can!" said Rosa, while Jessie hung her curly head.

"And can you _write_, Rosa?"

"No. I can make straight marks," answered Rosa.

"And what can you do, Master Frank?"

"Oh, Frank doesn't know anything?" said Jessie. "He did know his ABC's
once, but he's forgot them all."

"Take care, Miss Jessie, that he does not read before you," said Agnes.
"Your papa says we are to take the west wing for our school-room; you
must show me where it is, and after a day or to get in order, and to
make each other's acquaintance, we will begin school in earnest."

The next morning Agnes took the toilettes of her two little room-mates
under her care, and when they appeared at the breakfast-table, the rest
of the family hardly knew them, they looked so tidy and sweet. And poor
Tiney, who gazed with astonishment at her two little sisters, made her
appearance at Agnes' door soon after breakfast, to ask "if she wouldn't
make _her_ look nice too."

Agnes found so little to sympathise with, and took so little pleasure in
the society of the ladies of the Fairland family, that she longed for
her school to begin, that she might have useful occupation for her
thoughts and time. On the appointed morning therefore, she was well
pleased to meet her little pupils in the pleasant little room in the
"west wing," and to begin in earnest her labors as a teacher. Such a
pile of soiled, well-thumbed, and dogs-eared books, as the children
produced, Agnes had never seen together, and on opening them she found
that the young Fairland's had been exercising their taste for the fine
arts, by daubing all the pictures from a six-penny paint-box.

"Now, my dear children," said she, "the first thing we shall do every
morning, will be to read in the Bible; but I do not see any Bible or
Testament among your books; I suppose you each own one, do you not?"

If Agnes had been a little longer in the family of Mr. Fairland, perhaps
she would not have asked this question; for she soon found that she had
come into a family of as complete heathens, as she would have found if
she had gone to be governess among the Hindoos. There was a "family
Bible" in the house to be sure, but the only use to which it had ever
been applied, was that of registering the births of the family, and the
testimony it bore proved so exceedingly disagreeable to the Misses
Fairland, that as Rosa has informed us, they took the liberty one day of
erasing it.

Agnes told the children to ask their papa if they might each have a
Bible of their own, to which he consented, and when the Bibles were
brought home, the exclamations of derision from the Misses Fairland,
were loud and long.

"A missionary in disguise!" they exclaimed; "a saint in the form of a
governess; come to convert us all, and the first thing is an importation
of Bibles!" and many were the sneering and sarcastic remarks and
allusions which came to the ears of Agnes, but she kept on her way quiet
and undisturbed. Agnes was perfectly astonished to find how utterly
unacquainted these children were with the contents of the Bible. It was
all new to them; and after she had read to them every morning, she would
gather them around her, and tell them in simple language the sweet
stories from the Bible, while they listened, the younger ones with their
bright, wide-open eyes fixed upon her face, as if they could not lose a
word; and even poor Tiney loved to lay her head in Agnes' lap, and hear
of Him who ever sympathised with the sick and suffering.

It was very strange, and very interesting to Agnes, to hear the remarks
these children made, and the many questions they would ask on subjects
so new to them; and as they had not yet learned to look at the character
of God, as revealed in his Son, with the reverence which better
instructed children feel, they often spoke of Him as they would of any
good man of whom they might hear, and in a way which would seem too
irreverential, were I to tell you all they said.

Once when Agnes had been telling them of some of the miracles of our
Saviour, in curing the sick, and giving sight to the blind, and hearing
to the deaf, Rosa with her bright black eyes fixed intently on her face,
said with the utmost earnestness:

"Why, He was real _good_, wasn't He?"

"Yes," said Agnes, "always good and kind, and always ready to help the
sick and suffering."

"He could cure _anybody_, couldn't He?" continued Rosa.

"Yes; He was _all-powerful_," answered Agnes.

"Could He cure Tiney?" asked Jessie.

"Yes; if Tiney had lived when Christ was on earth, or if He was here
now, He could say the word, and make her well."

And then they asked, "Where is He now?" and "How can we talk to Him
now?" and "Why will He not cure Tiney now?" And Agnes tried, in the most
simple manner, to teach them the nature of the prayer of faith.

Once, when she was talking to them of our Saviour's meekness under
injuries, and telling them of His bitter sufferings, and the kindness of
His feelings towards His persecutors, the large tears rolled down their
cheeks, and Rosa made a practical application of the lesson at once, by
saying:

"The next time Tiney pinches me, cousin Agnes, I don't mean to slap her
back again."

"Nor I either," said Jessie.

And Tiney whispered, "I will _try_ and not hurt them next time."

Frank, who had been choking down something in his throat, as he sat in
his chair, said, in an unsteady voice:

"_Is it all _true_?"

"Every word of it, Franky," said Agnes.

"I've got something in my eye," said Frank, rubbing both eyes very hard
with the back of his hands; and then throwing himself on the settee, he
cried bitterly for a long time.

Agnes taught them many pretty hymns; and as they all had good voices,
and loved music dearly, they were never so happy as in singing, morning
and evening, these sweet hymns with Agnes. Even poor Tiney, who was
passionately fond of music, readily caught the tunes, though it was
almost impossible to teach her the words.

The very first Sunday that Agnes passed under the roof of Mr. Fairland,
was enough to convince her that the Sabbath day with them was passed
much like all other days. She was shocked to see novels, and other light
and trashy works, in the Lands of the Misses Fairland on this holy day,
and to hear them _howling_ snatches of opera tunes, as they ran up and
down the stairs. These young ladies sometimes went to church in the
morning, to be sure, especially if they had lately received new bonnets
from the city, which they wished to display for the envy or admiration
of their neighbors. Mrs. Fairland was too indolent to take the trouble,
even if she possessed the inclination, to appear at church; and Mr.
Fairland looked upon this seventh day of the week literally as a day of
rest, in which to recruit the exhausted energies of the body, in
preparation for the labors of another week. The day was passed by him in
looking over the newspapers, or sleeping in his large chair, with his
red silk handkerchief over his head; and towards evening, he usually
took a stroll over to his mills, or around his grounds, to mark out what
was necessary to be done on the coming week.

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