"This is my daughter Rosamond, Julia. Rosamond, this lady is my wife and your mother, to whom I trust you will pay all childly duty and courtesy."
It could but have been something of a shock to me to know that my father was married again. Still if I had had warning and a little time to consider the matter, I trust I should not have been wanting in my duty to my honored father and his wife. As it was, I am ashamed to say that after staring at the lady for a moment, I dropped in a dead faint at her feet.
When I began to revive, I felt the fresh air blowing on my face, and heard the rustle of leaves above me, but a leaden weight seemed to press down my eyelids, so that I could not open them. Kind hands were busy about me, and I presently heard a decided but clear and cheery voice say, "She is coming to herself!"
"I will leave you together!" said Mother Superior's voice, still sounding as in a dream. Then came a warm hand laid on mine and a kiss pressed on my forehead. At last I opened mine eyes. They fell on a very pleasant object—a lady of about my own mother's age, but perhaps handsomer, though in a different way—somewhat dark, with a beautiful color, bright brown eyes and well-marked eyebrows—the whole visage bearing the marks of a keen, clear-sighted but withal kindly disposition. The dress was rich, but sober and matronly. I looked long and as it were in a kind of bewilderment, till with a kindly smile, "Well, child, take a good look at me!" she said. "Do I look like a monster, or the cruel step-dames in the ballads?"
"No indeed, Madam!" I answered, feeling all the blood rush to my face in a flood. "I am sure you look like a good-natured gentlewoman. It was only that I was so taken by surprise, not knowing or thinking of any such thing."
"I see—I see!" she interrupted. "Did you not know, then? Your father sent letters more than two weeks before us."
"I have heard nothing of them," I answered.
"Poor child, no wonder you were taken aback!" said my step-dame. "Well, Rosamond, here I am, as you see. I trust to be able to make your father a good wife, and to supply to you in some degree the place of the mother you have lost. I cannot ask you to give me all at once the affection which a child owes her mother. That would be out of all reason. What I do ask is that you will not judge me beforehand, nor conclude that I must needs be a tyrant because I am a step-dame, but use your own eyes and judgment and persuade your brother to do the same. Your mother, so far as I have learned, was a saint. I am no saint, but a faulty woman—yet I trust I am a Christian woman, and one who means to do her duty."
What could I say to this, but that I would strive to do my part, and be a dutiful and loving child to her. With that I kissed her hand, and she my cheek, and we went to find my father, whom we found walking the parlor in evident perturbation, which, however, seemed to clear up as we entered.
"Why, that's well," said he; then changing his tone, "but what have they been doing to you, child? Why, you are but the ghost of yourself!"