Was I right?

by Mrs. O. F. Walton

I had said "Oh no!" instinctively, when I had first read the advertisement which Miss Morley enclosed. And yet, the more I thought of it, the more I felt that perhaps I ought to apply for the situation. It was clear that I must work for my living, in some way; I disliked teaching, so I felt that I was not fit to be a governess; perhaps, after all, this would be the very place for me.

And yet, and yet, my heart shrank back from what might be the path of duty.

For there was another letter on the table; another, and a very different letter. And this letter must be answered before I could at all decide about Miss Morley's proposal. I had read it so often during the day, that I knew every word of it. And now I must take up my pen and answer it. It opened out to me another path of life, a very different path from the former—a path which seemed as bright as the other was shady.

And yet, ought I to take it? Was it right for me to choose this path? Should I indeed be happy if I decided upon it? Would it be really bright, really peaceful? What course should I take? What answer should I give?

The letter was from Claude Ellis, my old playfellow and friend. He was the son of the clergyman of the village, his only child. Claude had no companions at home, and therefore when we were children we went, day by day, to the Parsonage, or Claude came to us, and we played together between the hours for lessons. Maggie was too small to join in our games, but she would sit on the grass near us, gathering daisies, and watching us as we floated our boats in the little stream, or ran races on the lawn. And then we grew older, and Claude was sent to school, but always in the holidays our old friendship was renewed, and we walked together, read together, and played together as before.

But soon school days passed by, and Claude went to Oxford. I remember so well the day on which he came to say "Good-bye" to us before leaving home. He looked very handsome, and was full of spirits, and was so much looking forward to his college life.

Maggie and I walked to the garden gate with him when he went away. And we talked of the time when he would come home again, and we should spend our days together as we had always done in the holidays. Then he went out, and the gate closed after him, and Maggie and I watched him down the road, and she waved her handkerchief to him till he was out of sight. And then we went back to the house, and I counted how many weeks must pass before the term would be ended, and Claude would be with us again.

But a very short time after, Mr. Ellis, Claude's father, was taken ill, and the doctor ordered him to go abroad for the winter. So Claude spent his Christmas vacation at Mentone instead of at home. And then we looked forward to Midsummer.

But Claude did not return home until the greater part of the long vacation was over. He was in Cornwall with a reading party, and did not come to the Parsonage until about three weeks before his return to Oxford. And so it came to pass, that Claude Ellis and I had not met for nearly a year.

"Claude is at home," said my father, one morning at breakfast.