Straight forward; or, walking in the light

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

Emily was so unaccustomed to the society of girls of her own age, that for some days she was nervous and embarrassed, and shrunk from their friendly advances from sheer awkwardness; but this feeling soon wore off, and before the end of a fortnight, she was on familiar terms with most of the young ladies in the hall where she lodged, and had formed something like an intimacy with two or three of them.

The first one with whom she became particularly acquainted was Lucy Spencer, a very quiet, unpretending girl, a year or two older than herself. She had been an inmate of the school for four years, and expected to remain for some time longer, and her steady good principles and perfect truthfulness made her as much a favorite with Mrs. Pomeroy and the teachers, as did her sweet temper and gentle cheerfulness with her companions. We do not pretend to say that Lucy was perfectly faultless—such girls being found only in old-fashioned story books,—but she was blessed with a naturally sunny and equable disposition, and this happy temperament was strengthened by truly Christian principles—principles which were brought to bear upon every action of her everyday life.

No one felt any hesitation, at asking a favor of Lucy, for if she felt herself obliged to refuse, it was done so gently and sweetly that it was impossible to be offended, while whatever was in her power was sure to be granted. Being in point of residence the oldest scholar in the school, it often fell to her lot to take a kind of oversight of the new pupils, and induct them into the way of the family, and thus it happened that for the first few days, Emily saw more of her than of any other girl in the house.

Mr. Arlington had made it a particular request that his daughter might have a room to herself, but this Mrs. Pomeroy had been unable to promise. Her house was full, there was but one empty room, and she was expecting another young lady very soon, so Mr. Arlington was fain to acquiesce. It was not, however, till Emily had sole possession of her room for three weeks, that her room-mate made her appearance in the person of Miss Delia Mason, who has already been introduced to our readers.

Delia was a very handsome girl, about Lucy Spencer's age, but from her style of dress and manners, appearing much older. She had lost her own mother at the age of ten years, and, in three years' time, her father was married again to a very amiable and lovely woman, who was desirous of doing everything in her power to render her husband and his daughters happy.

But Delia was one of those independent young ladies, whom it is by no means easy to render happy. She at once made up her mind her father had offered her a great insult and been guilty of the most flagrant injustice to her, in marrying again; and she had resolved from the first, not only that she would never be obedient to a step-mother, but that she would do all in her power to make a residence in the house disagreeable to the new comer.

Now the resolution to be disagreeable is one easily kept by persons of the most limited capacity, and Delia's capacity in this respect, especially, was by no means limited. That grand resource of ill-natured people—tears—was hers in no measured quantity, and for the first few days after her mother's arrival, she cried incessantly, refusing to appear at table, and acting to perfection the part of a heart-broken damsel, consoling herself meanwhile by stolen visits to cupboard and store room, and by private repast in her own apartment.

Growing weary of this vein after a while, she condescended to mingle with the rest of the family, but she still preserved a manner of the utmost coldness and disrespect to the new comer, never speaking to her if she could help it, and always addressing her as Mrs. Mason, instead of the natural and endearing title of mother, which had been easily adopted by her little sisters of four and five years old, who had at once been won by the gentle and attractive face of their new mama.

Delia had been accustomed to tyrannise over these little ones to her heart's content, treating them alternately as playthings and slaves. She was by no means pleased to see that her empire over them was likely to be entirely destroyed, and she set herself strenuously to work to defeat her step-mother's designs for their benefit. Was any indulgence forbidden them, Delia would contrive some way to give it them secretly or openly, defending herself when reproved by saying, "their mother always let them have it, and I don't see why it should be refused them by a stranger." If Mrs. Mason refused them, Delia invariably took their part, and incited them to impertinent replies and open rebellion, telling them that she was not their own mother, and they ought not to submit to be ordered about by a step-mother. Mr. Mason was away from home a great deal, and, as his wife never made a complaint, he was for some time quite unconscious of the discomfort caused her by Delia's misconduct, as well as of the injury she was doing to Rose and Celia.

It chanced after a time, however, that a slight accident confined him to the sofa for a fortnight, during which he had ample time to satisfy himself in regard to the state of things in the household.