Emily Arlington was the daughter of a rich merchant in the city. Her mother died when she was only five years old, and she was committed to the charge of a maiden aunt, residing in a quiet country village,—a lady actuated by Christian motives and principles, and, therefore, disposed to do everything in her power for the spiritual and temporal welfare of her young charge.
Miss Arlington, however, was not altogether fitted by nature for the charge she had undertaken. Though remarkably sweet tempered, she was rather weak-spirited; her will was by no means a match for Miss Emily's, and she was somewhat embarrassed by the restrictions imposed upon her by her brother's somewhat peculiar ideas upon the subject of female education. One of his favorite notions was, that young children, and above all girls, should never be allowed to associate with young people of their own age. Accordingly, the little Emily was secluded like a cloistered nun, with no companions or playmates, but her doll, her aunt and the servants. Moreover, Mr. Arlington had a great horror of feminine independence, and this feeling was fully shared by his sister, who accustomed Emily never to think for herself, but to ask for direction in even the smallest matters, so that, until she was fifteen, she had never bought a pair of gloves, or chosen a plaything for herself.
At this age, her aunt died; and her father finding, not long after, that business matters imperatively required his presence in Europe, decided, after much doubt and hesitation, to send his daughter to school. Emily was accordingly placed in the establishment, and under the especial care of Mrs. Pomeroy, whose school had for a quarter of a century enjoyed the enviable reputation of turning out more finished young ladies, and first rate scholars, than any other boarding school in the country.
Mr. Arlington did not leave his daughter without much good advice, and many charges to behave herself properly. He placed in her hand a purse containing what he considered a suitable amount of pocket money, informed her that Mrs. Pomeroy would supply her with clothes and other necessaries, and took an affectionate leave, intending to set out on his journey immediately.
Emily had seen very little of her father, and that little had induced her to fear rather more than she loved him; so that she may be pardoned if she parted from him without any very strong emotion. It was with a singular mixture of feeling that she followed Mrs. Pomeroy to the dining hall, where all the members of the family, some fifty in number, were now assembled, waiting the appearance of their principal to begin the evening meal.
"A new scholar, young ladies," said Mrs. Pomeroy, as they entered, "Miss Emily Arlington, Miss Spencer; will you take Miss Arlington next you at the French table?"
Emily was at first bewildered by the number of strange faces, and could hardly collect her thoughts sufficiently to reply to the polite remarks of her neighbors, who chatted merrily among themselves, though in subdued tones, and in French, supplying a missing word now and then with its Latin or German substitute. By degrees, however, she recovered her self-possession, and began to take an interest in observing the peculiarities of the little world by which she was surrounded. The scrutiny led her upon the whole to form a favorable opinion of her future companions.
They were indeed a remarkably pretty and well-dressed set of girls, and the manners of most of them appeared agreeable and lady-like. A good many things struck her as peculiar; she wondered at the consumption of bread and butter, and bread and syrup, going on around her, and she could not help staring a little to see the young ladies who had finished their meals, produce their books or their work, while waiting for their companions.
Tea was followed by prayers in the large school-room, and Emily was much impressed by the beauty of the responsive service and the singing.
"After all," she said to herself, while preparing for bed, "I don't see why I cannot be very happy here."