| CHAPTER I. | |
| Page | |
|---|---|
| The Sisters at Home | [1] |
| CHAPTER II. | |
| Preparation | [22] |
| CHAPTER III. | |
| Arrivals | [41] |
| CHAPTER IV. | |
| Pleasure or Pain? | [57] |
| CHAPTER V. | |
| Friendship not always Bliss | [80] |
| CHAPTER VI. | |
| Departures | [108] |
| CHAPTER VII. | |
| London | [131] |
| CHAPTER VIII. | |
| Profitable Pleasure | [155] |
| CHAPTER IX. | |
| The Convent | [176] |
| CHAPTER X. | |
| Sensibility without Sense | [204] |
| CHAPTER XI. | |
| A new Abode | [217] |
| CHAPTER XII. | |
| Sense with Sensibility | [252] |
FIVE YEARS OF YOUTH.
CHAPTER I.
The Sisters at Home.
Near the small town of A——, distant thirty miles from London, stood a farm-house, surrounded by a few acres of well-cultivated ground. There was a green before the door; and in the midst of the green stood an old elm, and under the elm was a pump. There was a sort of basin under the pump, and there were gathered together the goslings as soon as hatched, leaving the large pond in the farm-yard for the use of the ducks and ducklings, and the larger birds of their own race. There were hen-coops placed on the grass, which were furnished with an abundant population; and there was a constant fluttering of wings about the pigeon-house, where the old ones of the flock would perch at one of the entrance holes, and glance up and down and around, perching their heads, and making their beautiful necks glitter in the sunshine with twenty different colours. At a little distance was a rookery, a scene of incessant activity, as the eyes and ears of all who were within hearing could testify. The farmer’s children were generally in the farm-yard, seeing the cows milked, or playing duck-and-drake on the pond; and the boys followed the team with their father, or went into the field with old Robin, the hedger and ditcher, trying to help him with their little spades and wheelbarrow; while the girls fed the chickens, or stole into the dairy behind their mother.
It sometimes happened, that two little girls, who were evidently not of Farmer Rickham’s family, were seen playing with the children on the green. From their dress alone, no one would have supposed them to be young ladies; but their manners and conversation proved them to be, in some respects, well educated. All strangers who saw them looked again, wondering who could have the care of them, and what sort of management they had been subjected to. Their frocks, made sometimes of silk, and sometimes of calico, as it might happen, were generally torn, and always dirty; their shoes were all, from the sky-blue kid to the coarse black leather, down at the heel, so as to display a large round hole in the stocking. If Mary had a silk bonnet, and Anna a straw, the one was used as a cradle for the kitten, and the other as a basket to hold strawberries. Of course, all this inspired a stranger with disgust; but if occasion led him to speak to either sister, he was favourably impressed by the modesty of manner, and simplicity of speech, by which they were distinguished from many young persons more fortunate in their external appearance. They were the only children of Mr. Byerley, who lived at A——.
One fine May morning they went, as they often did, to see Nurse Rickham, as they called the farmer’s wife. While Mary was looking for eggs among the nettles, Anna amused herself with helping nurse to get dinner ready. When she came up from the potatoe hole with her apron full of potatoes, (for nurse had insisted on tying on an apron,) she stood in the middle of the kitchen for a minute or two, looking closely at Mrs. Rickham’s gown. Mrs. Rickham turned round surprise.
“I never saw you in this gown before, nurse,” said Anna.
“’Tis a very old gown, Miss Anna; I’ve worn it this many a year.” And nurse coloured, and looked uncomfortable.
“I have seen it before, I am sure, nurse; though not on you; and yet I thought it had been blue. I don’t remember mamma in any thing green. Was it not mamma’s?”
“My dear, it was. But who could have thought of your remembering that, so many years as it was ago? I have always kept it out of your sister’s sight, because she, being older, might perhaps remember it; but to-day you took me by surprise with it on, and I persuaded myself there was no need to change it.”