Mrs. Elwyn lingered on, becoming weaker and weaker, until, after Agnes had been with her about six months, she perceived that she was failing more rapidly, and at length was informed by the physician, that her mother could live but very few days longer. Agnes hastily summoned Mr. and Mrs. Wharton, who arrived only in time to witness the death-bed scene. Just before her death, Mrs. Elwyn seemed to awake to a sudden realization of the great mistakes of her life with regard to her son and daughter. She seemed to see now, as clearly as others had seen all along, the evils of her own management, and to trace the unhappy results to their proper source. It was sad to hear her, when all too late to remedy these evils, lament over “a wasted life—a worse than wasted life;” and so, with words of remorse upon her lips, she, who had had such power for good in her hands, passed away from earth.
And Agnes returned to her uncle’s house, leaving her brother at college. As soon as she had taken a little time to recruit, and to consider, she began to look about for a situation as governess, much against the wishes of every member of her uncle’s family, who would have considered it a privilege to keep her always with them. About this time, a distant relative of Mrs. Wharton’s, a Mr. Fairland, in passing from his Western home to the city, stopped to make them a visit. He was a plain, kind-hearted man, and seemed to take a particular interest in Agnes, with whose father and grandfather he had been intimately acquainted. Mr. Fairland had made quite a fortune by successful speculation, in a large Eastern city; but the extravagance of his wife and daughters, who were not willing to be outdone in dress or establishment by any of their neighbors, made such rapid inroads upon his newly-acquired wealth, that Mr. Fairland soon became convinced that it was leaving him as rapidly as it came. So he thought it the part of prudence to beat a retreat at once; and, in spite of the tears and remonstrances of his wife and eldest daughters, he removed the whole family to the beautiful village of Wilston, near which place he owned some fine and flourishing mills.
It was while speaking of his new home, and its many beauties, at Mr. Wharton’s breakfast table, that Mr. Fairland mentioned the only drawback to his happiness there, which, he said, was the want of the advantages of education for his younger children, who were running wild without any instruction, as their mother was unwilling to allow them to attend the village school. He had long been looking, he said, for a governess for them—one who would bring them up with right habits and principles, at the same time that she was instructing their minds.
Agnes seized the first opportunity in which she could find Mr. Fairland alone, to propose herself as governess to his children. This was more than Mr. Fairland had dared to hope for, and her proposal was hailed by him with gratitude and joy. He wished her to return immediately with him; but Agnes had some preparations to make, and her uncle was not willing to part with her quite yet: he promised, however, to bring her himself in the course of a month. A serious illness, however, deranged all Mr. Wharton’s plans and as soon as he was able to travel, business of the utmost importance called him to the city; so that Agnes, who disliked to keep Mr. Fairland waiting for her any longer, wrote to him when he might expect her, and, much against Mrs. Wharton’s wishes, set out alone in the stage for Wilston.
XIII.
New Scenes for Agnes.
“The stranger’s heart! oh, wound it not!
A yearning anguish is its lot;
In the green shadow of the tree,
The stranger finds no rest with thee.”
“And when may we expect to be favored with the presence of this paragon of perfection, and embodiment of all wisdom, papa?” asked Miss Evelina Fairland, with what was intended for the utmost girlish sprightliness of manner; for, although it was only at breakfast, Miss Evelina never laid aside her manner of extreme youth, as she thought it best to be continually in practice.
Her father answered quietly, that he expected Miss Elwyn by the afternoon stage.
“Is she one of these prim, old-maidish governesses, like our poor old Miss Pratt?” asked Miss Calista, a lady of something over thirty, and rather the worse for twelve years’ wear, in the way of balls and parties, the theatre and the opera. Indeed, at the breakfast table, Miss Calista looked considerably older than she really was, with her pale, faded cheeks, and her hair “en papillottes;” but, in the afternoon, by the use of a little artificial bloom, some cork-screw ringlets, and a manner as gay and girlish as that of her sister, she appeared quite another creature.
To Miss Calista’s question Mr. Fairland, with an amused pucker about the mouth, answered: