“I am pleased with your affectionate conduct on this trying occasion, my little Julia,” said Lady S. “particularly as it is founded on the noblest of all principles—that of doing as you would be done to. A hundred little birds are not to me so valuable, as one instance of goodness in my children. I will soon procure you another little pet.”
“I shall not soon like another so well as my own poor little Goldey,” said Julia: and I thought just as she did. I had become much attached to my companion, and felt her loss very severely, especially when my friends went out, for I was then quite solitary. Besides, I knew not what might be her fate; nor was I certain that she was not the unhappy victim I had seen in the morning.
CHAP. VI.
My readers may remember, that little Charles came home merely for the holidays, which being now over, his papa proposed taking him back to school; at the same time expressing a wish that Lady Seymour would be of the party, as she might then visit some relations, whom she had not seen for several years. The excellent mother did not like to leave her home, where she was always usefully occupied, for the benefit of her family or her poor neighbours; or agreeably entertained by the innocent gaiety of her children, during their hours of relaxation, which they always passed with her. No society was so delightful to her as theirs nor could any more pleasing indulgence be granted them, than permission to go to their dear mamma. However, she now yielded to Sir Charles’s earnest solicitation to accompany him, well knowing that she could place implicit confidence in Miss Sedley, during her absence.
My young friends behaved very sensibly on this occasion; for though they felt great uneasiness at parting with their beloved mother, they forbore all expressions of regret in her presence, lest they should diminish the pleasure she was likely to enjoy in visiting her relations. The two little girls who were in the nursery accompanied their mamma; for she observed, that it would be no loss of time to them, as they had not yet commenced their studies.
I shall pass over the parting scene, which was, indeed, a mournful one, and introduce my readers to my young friends in the school-room, where they assembled soon after the departure of their parents. They were evidently dejected, but no impatient expressions escaped them. Their kind governess insensibly diverted them from the contemplation of their grief, by various amusements, all contributing to their health or improvement. She at length succeeded in tranquillizing their minds, and they, sensible of her kindness, evinced towards her affection and gratitude.
I had now an opportunity of seeing them at all times, and my esteem for them was by no means diminished. Indeed, I never beheld a happier little society: they were obedient and attentive during the hours allotted to study, and so united in all their sentiments, that it seemed as if one mind animated the three. Their governess was indulgent, because she found that indulgence was not injurious to them; and they were happy, because they deserved to be so. Even their motives and incitements to virtue were of the noblest kind. They were early taught to believe, that happiness is derived from conferring benefits, rather than from receiving them. Their excellent mother knew this truth from experience, and was anxious that her daughters should learn it by the same means. She had established a school for poor children, on Sir Charles’s estate, to which she allowed each of the young ladies to send a little girl; and in order to enable them to pay for their protegées, she allowed a weekly stipend to those who, by their amiable conduct, deserved it. My young readers may easily suppose, that they always endeavoured to merit this reward; for it would have been at once vexatious and disgraceful, not to have had a child in the school. They were allowed to visit the poor children occasionally, to inspect their progress; and I observed that they always came home more cheerful and happy, from their favourite walk to the hill, on the summit of which stood the little school-house; so that I did not doubt that they already felt the good effects of their mother’s sensible plan.
Several weeks passed without any material occurrence in my history, and my young friends were beginning to anticipate the return of their beloved parents, when my mistress remarked, one day, that I was not so merry as usual, (for I was not quite well.) “Poor little fellow,” said she, “he perhaps regrets being kept in doors this fine weather: I must let him out.”
The children looked as if they did not wish me to go, but said nothing. I should not have been so silent, could I have made myself understood; for I really wished to stay where I was so comfortable.