d with pain that you have not been easy
with us.'

'Easy? Oh! You are such great people, my lady,' said I.

'I am unfortunate in using a word which may convey a meaning--and
evidently does--quite opposite to my intention.' (She had not expected
my reply, and it shamed her.) 'I only mean, not happy with us. It is
a difficult topic to enter on; but, from one young woman to another,
perhaps--in short, we have been apprehensive that you may allow some
family circumstances of which no one can be more innocent than yourself,
to prey upon your spirits. If so, let us entreat you not to make them
a cause of grief. My husband himself, as is well known, formerly had a
very dear sister who was not in law his sister, but who was universally
beloved and respected.

I saw directly that they had taken me in for the sake of the dead woman,
whoever she was, and to have that boast of me and advantage of me; I
saw, in the nurse's knowledge of it, an encouragement to goad me as
she had done; and I saw, in the children's shrinking away, a vague
impression, that I was not like other people. I left that house that
night.

After one or two short and very similar experiences, which are not to
the present purpose, I entered another family where I had but one pupil:
a girl of fifteen, who was the only daughter. The parents here were
elderly people: people of station, and rich. A nephew whom they had
brought up was a frequent visitor at the house, among many other
visitors; and he began to pay me attention.

I was resolute in repulsing him; for I had determined when I went
there, that no one should pity me or condescend to me. But he wrote me a
letter. It led to our being engaged to be married.

He was a year younger than I, and young-looking even when that allowance
was made. He was on absence from India, where he had a post that was
soon to grow into a very good one. In six months we were to be married,
and were to go to India. I was to stay in the house, and was to be
married from the house. Nobody objected to any part of the plan.

I cannot avoid saying he admired me; but, if I could, I would. Vanity
has nothing to do with the declaration, for his admiration worried me.
He took no pains to hide it; and caused me to feel among the rich people
as if he had bought me for my looks, and made a show of his purchase to
justify himself. They appraised me in their own minds, I saw, and were
curious to ascertain what my full value was. I resolved