“I think you are kind, Aunt Sophia, and perhaps—I shall get accustomed to it.”
Her aunt whisked round with some impatience.
“I hope so,” she said; “for, whether you like it or not, you will have to put up with it. I fully intend to be kind, but I also mean to be very firm. I have now got the home in which you live into decent order, and you yourselves are respectably clothed. But I have not yet tackled the most important part of my duties, my dear Verena.”
“Oh, please, Aunt Sophia, what else is necessary?”
Miss Tredgold threw up her hands.
“A great, great deal more,” she cried. “I have not yet touched your minds; and I fear, from the way you speak, that I have scarcely touched your hearts. Well, your bodies at least are attended to, and now come your minds. Lastly, I hope to reach the most important of all—your hearts. Verena, I must probe your ignorance in order to stimulate you to learn. You, my dear, will be grown up in three years, so that you in particular have a vast lot to do.”
“But I hate learning, and I shouldn’t like to be a learned woman,” said Verena. “Mother knew a lot of things, but she wasn’t learned like father.”
“Good gracious, child! I don’t want you to be like your father. To tell the truth, a bookworm such as he is is one of the most irritating persons in existence. But there! What am I saying? I oughtn’t to speak against him in your presence. And your poor mother loved him, oh, so much! Now then, dear, to return to yourself and your sisters. I presume that you would like to be a useful and valuable member of society—a woman who has been trained to do her best, and to exercise the highest influence over all those with whom she comes in contact. Influence, which springs from character, my dear Verena, is the highest power that any one can get. Now, an ignorant person has little or no influence; therefore, to be kind and sympathetic and useful in the future, you must know many things. You have not a minute to lose. I appeal to you for your mother’s sake; for my dear, dear sister would have liked her eldest child to be—ah, Verena!—so good and so true!”
“You touch me, Aunt Sophy,” said Verena, “when you talk of mother. You touch me more than words can say. Yes, I will try to be good; but you must bear with me if I don’t take the yoke too kindly at first.”
“Poor child! I will try to make it light for you. Now what is the matter, Penelope?”