8th.—I begin to feel more at ease with all my new friends; indeed, I do not know why I am afraid of them. Generally, before we leave the breakfast table, one of my cousins reads aloud for about half an hour. This morning, before we separated, my uncle said, “My dear children, I hope you will consider my little Bertha as another sister;—we must make her feel at home. Let us go on just as usual with all our employments, and she will gradually cease to be a stranger.”
“I hope,” said my aunt, “that Bertha does not feel herself a stranger—she will soon become accustomed to our mode of life; but we must give her a little time—we must become acquainted by degrees.”
“But, Mamma,” said Caroline, “will not my cousin feel a little neglected, if we continue our own pursuits, without any attention to hers?”
“Certainly, were that the case—but I think, my love, that as Bertha will have her own employments, she may not, perhaps, at first like to make one of our happy family school; but though occupied ourselves, I am sure we shall never be inattentive to her feelings.”
“I dare say Bertha knows that to be always employed is the chief secret of happiness,” said my uncle; “and I am convinced that both you and she will perceive that we never enjoy the society of our friends so much, as when we have earned it by useful labour or moderate restraint.”
Just then the letters were brought in; one of them from cousin Hertford, who is now visiting the Western Isles, seemed to give great delight to the whole party.
10th.—After breakfast is over, Mary and Caroline retire to my aunt’s dressing-room, where they go on with their studies. I long to be admitted to sit there in the mornings, and share in their employments.
Mary is not so pretty as Caroline, but she has a most expressive countenance; her health has been delicate, and she is timid and reserved in company, but very lively when we are quietly together. They are both very charming, but different in many respects.
I generally sit part of the morning in the library, where my uncle invited me, and am very happy, except that when Wentworth and Frederick are engaged with him I feel afraid of being an intruder. But my uncle likes to have me there, and his conversation is always pleasant and instructive.
Yesterday evening my cousins sung, and then we all danced for an hour—even my uncle danced, while my aunt played for us.