My long-desired wish was gratified, and I was spending the winter at the academy, and among friends who took an interest in my welfare, and assisted me whenever they could. The prospect was fair before me of my being able to prepare for what I had wished from childhood. Still, envy and contempt had a shaft or two, but they generally flew too high or too low, for I knew a man would "be a man for a' that."
A little boy said to me one day, tauntingly: "Mother says you can't be a schoolma'am anyhow; anybody as has allus been a servant don't know 'nough. I sha'n't go to school to you."
"Ah, you think you would not like to come then?" said I, pleasantly.
"If mother would let me."
Then, looking up to me in a confiding way, he asked: "Is it bad to be a servant?"
Heaven bless the child! thought I, as I kissed his face, sweet now with gentle thoughts; why must such hearts be poisoned with bitter and contemptuous thoughts?
It was nearly spring when a party was made by one of the principal families of the village. Some of the pupils of the academy were to leave before the term expired, and it was intended as a compliment to them. Some of the villagers had begun to think the habits of our village too primitive, and that "hired girls," farmers' sons, and apprentices, should no longer be invited to the village gatherings. To this party I was among the uninvited. I was too proud, too independent, too much intent on my studies to resent it, and intended not to notice it. One does not like to be the subject of deliberate neglect; but all I meant to do about it was to prepare myself for the future, and I resolved my future should be such that they and their descendants would be proud to associate with me.
A young gentleman, a favorite in the village, boarding at the same place, asked permission to attend me to the party. His favorite girl was a particular friend of mine, and he had been escort to both on a previous occasion, but now she was out of the village. Without telling him I could not go, and for what reason, I endeavored to put him off to go alone, or find another lady, saying, "I must learn my lessons; I did not like to be out late."
He knew that, but had resolved I should go this time, as I had successfully excused myself before. He protested I was studying too much; a social evening would do me good; said he would come home as soon as I said, after nine o'clock. Thus he endeavored to overrule all my objections and excuses.
There was no real reason why I should not go with him, only the one why I should not go at all. I did not intend to tell him I had such an one, but he gave me no peace until I told him I could not go, and why.